


this side of paradise

by sunflwrmemories



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Crack Treated Seriously, Everyone Is Gay Except Niall Horan, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Internalized Homophobia, Jealous Louis Tomlinson, Kinda, Light Angst, Louis Is Sometimes An Asshole, Louis Tomlinson Takes Care of Harry Styles, Love Triangles, M/M, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, OR IS HE, Simon Cowell Being An Asshole, Simon Cowell Is Sometimes An Asshole, Slow Burn, Sometimes He's Okay, Tired Niall Horan, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, brief friends with benefits but not really but also kinda???, i can't be half assed to look up a masterpost, of everything that happened in one direction since the creation, please learn how to communicate, probably, so half the things that happen here is made up, sorry - Freeform, the amount of jealousy here is honestly unhealthy, they all share one braincell and no one ever gives it to Louis, this fic is weirdly kinky considering theres no smut in it, unintentional d/s undertones, well kinda, zayn has a slight obsession with liam but it has nothing to do with the plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:09:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 65,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27460240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflwrmemories/pseuds/sunflwrmemories
Summary: Harry Styles has a big fat crush on his best friend, and the only thing holding him back is his soulmate.Louis Tomlinson wants nothing more than to find his soulmate, but Harry makes it hard for him to think of anyone else.They're both idiots, but Fate is too stubborn to keep them away from each other.xx.This was a one off joke on Tiktok that somehow turned into an 8-part series that somehow turned into a fanfiction and here it is.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 12
Kudos: 94





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this at 2 am instead of my lab report oh god im gonna fail college

_"how can you miss someone you've never met?_   
_cause i need you now but i don't know you yet"_

-IDK You Yet, Alexander 23

²⁸ 

Harry grew up in a world surrounded by music. The hum of the wind as it slipped past the large leaves, the twinkle of the silver wind chimes his mother put up on their front porch when he was three, his older sister’s giggle when he managed to do something funny. There was music in every inhale and exhale of the Earth, every beat of a heart, snippets of conversations and nursery lines absorbing into his brain like a sponge with water. He never questioned the music the way a wolf never questioned why the moon shone every night, content enough that it existed. 

In a way, Harry was always aware he shared his head with a stranger. He had music playing in his head from the beginning, soft lullabies that lulled him to sleep as a baby and entertained him when his mother left for work and his sister went to primary school. He learned the alphabet before the rest of his classmates thanks to the sweet voice inside that sang the letters to him. He had memorized Silent Night while coloring outside the lines in his coloring book in 3rd grade, although it would’ve been another two years before his school had their Christmas play and Harry got the lead solo for no reason other than no one else wanted it. 

He was nine when he realized the songs inside his head weren’t normal. There was a subtle shift, where the soft melodies popular on the radio changed into something more rough and raw, heavy drums and long guitar riffs making Harry’s ears ache, but not exactly unpleasantly. He sat at the kitchen table, his maths workbook left open and half-done in front of him, frowning at nothing as he tried to mouth along to the words. 

That’s how Anne found him, her shiny brown hair pulled up in a ponytail as she pulled at her yoga clothes. “What are you doing, baby boy?” She asked him, a quizzical smile locked on her face. 

“Mummy, do you know what song this is? The one that goes -” He tried to imitate the melody, but by the incredulous look on his mum’s face, he failed terribly. 

“Where’d you hear a song like that?” She laughed. 

“Inside my head,” Harry replied, and Anne’s smile dropped. 

Harry was nine when he found out he had a soulmate. Anne had set him on her lap, running her fingers through his hair, which was getting too long now. He relaxed against her as she explained the concept, the melody in his head and her soft voice lulling him into a peace he never knew he could achieve. Harry already knew what a soulmate was. There were enough movies on the telly about beautiful girls with pretty hair falling in love with strong men who would do anything for them. Gemma didn’t like those movies much, but Harry loved watching them get their happy endings, when they would kiss after the man slid the ring on the girl’s finger and they lived happily ever after. He always wanted to live happily ever after. 

And now he could. 

Soulmates were rare. Very rare. The galaxy would expand and a star would die, and their ashes would float to earth and separate into two people. Two people who the universe decided had to be together, and the only way they could find each other was through the power of love. 

“And the music in your head,” Anne reminded him. 

And that. 

“So does that mean they can hear my thoughts?” Harry asked, concerned because he had to do a lot of multiplication tables and he didn’t want to bore his soulmate. 

“No, baby. They only hear music.”

“Just music?” He asked, thinking back to all the songs in his head, wondering if his soulmate thought he was cool when he sang along to the Spice Girls. “When am I going to meet them?”

Anne pursed her lips, the way she always did when she wasn’t sure if she should lie or tell the truth, the way she did when he asked her where his dad went or where babies came from. “Soon, I hope.”

The older Harry got, the easier it was to differentiate between what he liked and what his soulmate liked. For one, their tastes were very different. While Harry could sing every song off the Mamma Mia soundtrack and worshipped the ground Fleetwood Mac walked on, his soulmate had Green Day and Oasis on repeat. Whenever a new song popped in his head, he would scramble for whatever was around him so that he could jot down the lyrics he could understand and search it up later. He had a journal full of all the songs his soulmate listened to, kept meticulously and always within reach. He wanted something for them to talk about when they finally met. 

“That’s creepy,” Gemma said, watching him print the latest song - a Blink 182 song except only the chorus played, _“turn the lights off, carry me home”_ , over and over again - in his journal, his tongue sticking out in concentration because he didn’t want to mess the letters up again. 

“You’re creepy,” he replied, adding a star sticker next to it. It should’ve been annoying, having someone else’s music played in your head every day, but it comforted Harry. He didn’t feel as alone. 

“I’m just saying,” she scoffed. “She’s gonna think you’re creepy for keeping track of everything she listened to.”

“That just means I was listening to her,” Harry shot back, moving the journal closer to him and shielding it away from Gemma’s judgmental eyes. “You don’t get it, you don’t have a soulmate.”

“I don’t want one,” she snapped, eyes narrowed, but her bottom lip quivered and Harry knew it bothered her more than she let on. Guilt swirled in his gut, but before he could feel bad about it, his soulmate switched songs and Harry scrambled to jot it down. 

Harry dreamt about them too, imagined sitting side by side next to a faceless figure, huddled around his iPod and sharing headphones, their heads so close their breaths mingled. He imagined how soft their touch would be on his skin, the way they would hold his hand. Harry was a little in love with his soulmate before he even met them. 

Harry was helping his mum cook dinner when something changed. He was in charge of cutting the tomatoes, carefully slicing through the red skin because he didn’t want another accident and trip to the emergency room, when a song started playing in his head. Up until that point, his soulmate had been quiet, nervously so, the past punk pop songs and occasional obnoxious rap music trickled into white noise, and Harry had been on edge all week. Was his soulmate okay? Did they get hurt and lost their memories and forgot how to listen to music? 

But now, it was something different. Familiar in a way, but different. 

Gemma peered at him when she noticed he stopped cutting. She was in charge of seasoning the meat, although Anne placed her far away from the stove after what happened last time with the fire department. “What’s up, dork-face?”

“Gemma, don’t call your brother a dork-face,” Anne sighed, stirring the spaghetti at the stove. “Also, you’re 18 now, you can be more creative.”

Harry didn’t bother reacting to his family taking the piss out of him, already used to it as the youngest child. He cocked his head to the side, trying to recognize the lyrics, although it was a bit hard when it skipped and went back to the beginning as if someone was trying to memorize the words. 

Gemma’s smirk fell off her face as she realized Harry wasn’t even paying attention. She left her station at the dining table, wiping her hands on a cloth towel before sliding next to him at the kitchen counter, knocking her shoulder into his. “Where’s your head at, H?”

“My soulmate’s playing a song,” he explained slowly, fingers itching to grab a piece of paper and scribble the lyrics he could understand. 

“Aren’t they always?” She snorted. 

He frowned, “Yeah, but it’s different. It goes like - “ He hummed the beginning melody, an expert at it already considering how many times his soulmate replayed it. “And then the first part is like, ‘ _summer lovin had me a blast, na na na na, happened so fast_ ’ or something like that.”

Gemma shrugged, but Anne perked up. “Isn’t that from Grease? I used to love that movie.”

“Grease?” Harry repeated, dubious. 

“I think we still have a copy of it somewhere in the house,” she hummed. “It’s been a while since I watched it, might be nice to sit together and have a movie night.”

“Great, your soulmate likes old stuff,” Gemma snorted, heading back to her seat and the forgotten slab of meat she left. 

“Grease isn't that old,” Anne scowled playfully. “And you’d like it, I think.”

“But my soulmate keeps replaying this song,” Harry complained. “I can’t even hear the rest of it.”

“Maybe she’s auditioning for the musical,” Gemma said. “I’m pretty sure there was a musical for it last year.”

“Or he,” Harry corrected softly.

Gemma’s head snapped up to look at him, her eyes searching his face. Anne stopped stirring the spaghetti. It was quiet for a few seconds, although it felt like hours. He focused his gaze on the tomatoes, carefully chopping them as the tension in the room thickened. 

Gemma, gratefully, broke it. “Or he,” she amended, tone softer than it's ever been when she talked to him. 

“Or they,” Harry added, because he couldn’t help himself. 

Anne placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, and all the tension Harry didn’t realize he was holding disappeared. “Or they,” she said. 

They went back to their respective tasks, but Harry couldn’t wipe the grin off his face, Grease playing quietly in his head as if his soulmate knew that something important just happened. Even after they finished dinner and his mum’s boyfriend came over and asked him why he was so smiley. After dinner, Anne dug up Grease from the basement and they spent that evening watching it. Harry watched with enraptured eyes, wondering if his soulmate was watching the same thing right now. He wondered what it would be like to be curled up next to them as they watched it, hands intertwined, his soulmate singing along under their breath while Harry watched and admired. His heart clenched at how much he wanted it to be true. 

It was becoming increasingly obvious that his soulmate was trying to memorize the songs from Grease as for the next two weeks. They played it so many times that Harry was sure he could duet them if he was given the chance. He wondered if they were actually in a musical, what character they were playing, if they were nervous. If they ever performed before. He didn’t think his soulmate was much of an artistic type considering they mostly listened to songs that were anti-establishment and had more swear words than Harry knew existed. And Britney Spears. They listened to a surprising amount of Britney Spears. 

The urge to be with them, whoever this mysterious soulmate was, grew into something so big and terrifying Harry didn’t like the person he was when he wasn’t with them. It consumed him, this love for someone he had never met, and when Summer Nights and You’re The One That I Want stopped playing in his head and Billy Joel started singing Piano Man again, he made a decision. He was going to find his soulmate. No matter what. It was unfair he had to spend this much time without the love of his life by his side. 

“You can’t find your soulmate at 15, Harry,” Gemma said when he burst into her room and spilled his plan to her. She was applying eyeliner in front of her vanity and didn’t flinch when Harry slammed open the door. She was cool like that. 

He bit back a childish retort because he wasn’t a kid, and if he was going to whisk his soulmate off their feet and, like, marry them or whatever, he had to be cool and mature. “But I can’t just sit here and do nothing, Gems. What if they’re waiting for me to rescue them?”

“Like in _Shrek_?” She asked, eyebrows raised. 

Harry balked. “That’s not - what does that even - are you calling me an ogre?”

“Where did that even come from?” She laughed. “But I’m not denying it.”

He pressed his lips together, convinced that his soulmate wouldn’t want to see him throw another tantrum because Gemma teased him again. That would’ve been uncool. “Well,” he said after a weighty pause, “Your eyeliner is crooked.” 

Gemma just grinned at him, and Harry was about to stomp back out of his room and listen to Coldplay - sorry soulmate! - as he fumed when she called out, “I got new nail polish, want me to put some on you?”

Harry bit his lip and considered it for half a second. “Yeah, okay,” he finally conceded, cheeks flushing pink. And that was the end of that conversation. 

Harry was going to do it. He was going to find his soulmate, wherever they were, no matter what. He really was. He had a plan written down for once he finished, after his GCSEs, which he had to pass or else his mum would kick his arse. 

But then the X Factor happened. 

He hadn’t planned on doing it. He really wasn’t. But he saw the advert on the telly, and it stuck inside his head like a tattoo, and somehow he found himself filling out the application with his mum, apprehension filling his gut. It wasn’t like he was going to win. There were far more talented people in the U.K. who could win. But it could be fun, maybe? What did he have to lose, really? 

So he applied. And he was accepted. And suddenly he stopped thinking about his soulmate and started freaking out about what to sing instead. He spent so much worrying if “Isn’t She Lovely” by Stevie Wonder was the best song to sing or if he should go with his original plan of the Backstreet Boys that he stopped writing down his soulmate’s songs. He barely noticed when they started playing nothing but “Hey There Delilah”, too focused on getting his friends’ opinion on his voice and improving as much as he could. He rationalized that he would have time for his soulmate again after X Factor, when he inevitably lost and returned back to Cheshire. 

He was nervous when the day arrived and they were ushered into a big building so packed with people Harry felt like an unfortunate sardine. It was loud, people chattering through their nerves or practicing their audition song, and the tension was a taut string, one bad move and everything might snap. Harry swallowed, picking at his name tag, wondering if it was a mistake and if it was too late to change his mind. 

Anne, ever observant, brushed his unruly curls out of his eyes. “Are you okay, sweetie?”

He nodded, throat still thick with fear. “Yeah,” he managed to get out. “Need to, um, need to have a wee.” He left before his mum could see just how Not Okay™ he was and hurried to the nearest restroom, thoughts running too fast for him to understand, the sound of people talking and the cheesy pop music from the loud speakers no longer pretty but overwhelming. Like a bad note on a piano, except it was played over and over again until Harry couldn’t think, he could barely breathe. Thankfully, the restroom was empty when he entered, and he quickly splashed some water on his face. It didn’t do much to stop his accelerating heartbeat or his thoughts, but it did - 

Actually it didn’t solve any of his problems. He groaned, then realized belatedly, he actually did have to wee. He went to the farthest urinal, thoughts so occupied that he didn’t hear the door open or notice someone stand in front of one, leaving an open urinal between them. He wouldn’t have noticed them at all if his brain hadn’t just. . .quieted. It was like someone covered his brain with an earmuff and everything was now muffled. It was so quiet he could hear his heart pounding in his chest and the sound of a zipper going down. Startled, he looked to his right, eyes wide as they trailed up the other person’s body, and then - 

Yeah. 

If Harry could never remember the time he pissed on a pretty boy’s shoes in the bathroom at X Factor like an idiot, it would be too soon. He was mortified, but also a little impressed he managed to get that far. His distance was phenomenal. 

“Oops?” Harry breathed out, his face burning so hard he was sure the fire alarm would go off. 

The other boy - he couldn’t have been that much older than Harry, _which meant he had a chance_ \- opened his mouth, wide eyes focused entirely on his pissed on dirty Vans, a half-impressed grunt tumbling out of his mouth. “Um, hi,” he finally said, voice light and higher-pitched than his and Harry would consider kneeling on the ground and proposing right then and there if his prick still wasn’t hanging out. 

Oh shit, his prick was still out. 

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” he blubbered, tucking himself back in and leaping over to where the paper towels were so that he could wipe the stranger’s shoes. “I didn’t mean to - I swear I usually don’t piss on other people, it’s not really a kink of mine, I think-” 

“Woah, mate, s’alright,” the stranger said nervously, eyeing Harry as if he was insane, which was fair. His voice was so pretty, like a song verse no one could ever forget, with a thick Northern accent that made his stomach flutter. The boy took the paper towel out of his hand, the brief skin on skin contact making Harry’s toes curl up. “Just an accident, yeah?”

Harry nodded fervently, although the stranger could tell him to strip naked and streak through the arena as Simon Cowell watched, flabbergasted, and he would do it no questions asked. _What the fuck is wrong with you?_ His common sense wondered at the back of his head. Harry ignored it. 

“I'm a bit impressed, actually,” the stranger continued, leaning down to wipe at his shoes, a playful smile on his face. “How’d it manage to get that far? Do you practice?”

“Yes!” Harry’s face fell as he registered the question, and if you could search up horrified in the dictionary, his face at that moment would probably pop up. “I mean - no! I don’t practicing pissing on peo-”

The cute stranger laughed and - wow, Harry was never that religious but at that moment, he was pretty sure he met an actual angel. Maybe he had passed out while hyperventilating and died, and now he was heaven, if heaven looked like a water-stained bathroom with an unidentified stain on the wall. But the stranger’s laugh was a symphony, airy and breathless, curling around his heart and squeezing tight. And damn, was he gorgeous. Taller than Harry by a couple inches, but lithe, with shiny brown hair and the most brilliant blue eyes he had ever seen, cheekbones so sharp they could cut glass. 

“I was just fucking with you, mate,” he giggled - holy shit, that giggle could cure cancer. “You look so wound up, you need to relax.”

Harry laughed nervously, suddenly tongue-tied in the presence of this blue-eyed angel. “Yeah, um, yeah. I’m a bit nervous, I think.”

“You think?” The stranger repeated, lips curling up playfully. They were just so pink and nicely shaped, with a thin upper lip and thicker bottom lip, and it looked so soft too. “You’re gonna sing for us, Mr. Popstar?”

Harry rubbed the back of his neck, skin prickling at the attention Cute Boy™ was giving him. “I suppose so. Um, are you gonna sing too?”

Cute Boy gave him a cute smile, his lips quirking up and eyes crinkling at the sides. “I suppose so. Don’t think I’m gonna make it through, to be honest.”

“Me too,” Harry mumbled, ducking his head, although the anxiety from before wasn’t as prevalent. Yeah, he was still nervous, but he didn’t feel as bad as when he burst in. His thoughts were murky but in a good way, most of his focus on the pretty boy in front of him, like they were in their own little bubble. It was also eerily quiet in his head, although he didn’t think too deeply about what that meant. 

“Bullshit, I bet you’ll smash it.”

Harry blushed at the compliment, something warm and fuzzy settling in his chest. “You’ll smash it too,” he said, shyly. 

“How do you know, you haven’t heard me sing yet.”

“You haven’t heard me either,” Harry countered. “I bet you sound like an angel.”

A slow smile spread on Pretty Boy’s face and something that could’ve been a blush in a different light dusted his cheekbones. “M’names Louis. Louis Tomlinson.” 

“Harry,” he said, holding out a hand. “Harry Styles.” Louis raised his eyebrow at Harry’s hand and - oh right. 

He squeaked and rushed to the sink, hiding his burning face and wondering if it would be too dramatic of him if he drowned himself in the porcelain sink. 

“Harry Styles,” Louis mused behind him, making eye contact with Harry through the mirror. “Sounds like a proper rockstar name. You’ll take Britain by storm once you win this thing.”

Harry wrinkled his nose, trying not to smile too much. “I’ll have to get passed the auditions first.”

“You’ll make it through,” Louis said dismissively, as if it wasn’t even a question. “If your singing is as sweet as your voice, there’s no way Simon Cowell could say no.”

Harry wiped his now washed hands on his jeans and turned around and, wow, Louis was a lot closer than he first realized. The sink dug into his back but he didn’t notice as he studied Louis’ face, wishing he could imprint it on his mind like petals in a book. His eyelashes were really long. Really, really long. “Thank you.”

Louis’ eyes flickered in the dim lighting of the restroom. “How about a picture, Mr. Rockstar?”

Harry startled. “What?” 

“A picture,” he repeated with a wide smile. “So that when you’re famous and shit, I can say I was your first fan.” 

“You don’t - I’m not -”

But Louis tugged at his arm until they were pressed tight next to each other. He pulled out his phone and flipped the camera, pointing it at them and taking a picture before Harry could even process the turn of events. He blinked, then looked at it. 

“Hey, my eyes were closed in that one!”

Louis laughed, the sound ringing in Harry’s ears like church bells. There was something musical about the way he laughed, and talked, and existed. It was like all the melodies in the world came together to create him, and now the universe was waiting for someone special to sing it. _Someone who isn’t you_ , a pesky voice in his head said. 

“I’ll take another one then, don’t worry.” 

So they spent approximately three minutes taking pictures together, and the warmth emanating from Louis’ body made him want to curl into his arms and breathe in the scent of mild soap and sweat. Not that Harry was sniffing him or anything. They finally settled on a decent picture, one that had both their heads in the frame and wide smiles from the both of them. They looked so right standing next to each other, like two puzzle pieces that fit. 

“I like that one,” Louis said. 

“Me too,” Harry murmured. “You should send me it.”

“Give me your number, then. And your autograph.”

Harry pressed his lips together to hold back his smile, but from the way Louis’ eyes crinkled, he was failing. “Why?”

“I told you, Rockstar. When you become rich and famous, I need something to sell to eBay to pay for uni.”

“How do you know I’ll be the famous one?”

Louis shrugged. “When you know, you know, right? Besides, I’d rather be the trophy wife.”

Harry giggled but obliged, scribbling something that, if you squinted, almost looked like his name on a paper towel with a sharpie Louis kept in his back pocket for some reason. He then punched his number into Louis’ Blackberry, excitement fluttering in his stomach at the realization that he just gave a cute boy his number.

“I’ll see you around, Harry Styles.” He said it like a promise. 

Harry grinned back at him. “See you around, Louis Tomlinson.”

When he was left alone, again, in the restroom, he just barely stopped himself from screaming in joy. Just barely. Because Harry had never had the attention of a boy before, too awkward for anyone to spare a passing glance at. But somehow, all that changed in the fifteen minutes he spent here, and not once did his thoughts get so loud he got overwhelmed, not once did he get distracted by a new song his soulmate was playing. 

Harry’s smile fell. Shit, his soulmate. What was he doing, preening under the attention of a stranger when his soulmate was waiting somewhere patiently for him, wondering if he forgot about them? He couldn’t get carried away here. His only goal was to sing in front of thousands of people, get rejected, and go home. He didn’t have time for pretty boys with pretty eyes who made butterflies swarm in his stomach. 

_It’s not like I’ll see him again_ , Harry thought. _He’s probably going to forget about me once this is done, and I’ll never see the picture._

A part of him was disappointed, but he ignored it. 

As if on cue, “Hey There Delilah” started playing again and Harry groaned. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear to god I know how to write serious fics. Unbeta'd we die like men.

²⁸ 

_"shall i write it in a letter?_  
_shall i try to get it down?_  
_oh you fill my head with pieces_  
_of a song i can't get out_

_can i be close to you?"_  
-Bloom, Paper Kites

²⁸ 

The awful thing about having a crush is that it doesn’t go away just because you wanted it to. If that was the case, Harry could’ve saved himself the next five years of heartbreak, but alas, he was stuck with it. He was wedged between one side of the couch in the X Factor house and someone’s old guitar, arms crossed in frustration as he watched Louis chat with two of the other contestants - their rivals, that traitor - with a smile that made Harry’s stomach do somersaults. The girls were standing far too close to him, the brunette twirling a lock of her hair around her finger flirtatiously while the other was biting her bubblegum pink lips. How Louis didn’t notice the blatant flirting was anyone’s guess, but that didn’t stop Harry from wanting to push those two out of the way and take up all of Louis’ attention. 

  
He frowned. _Jealousy does not look good on you, Harry_ , he thought to himself. _Just because someone is interested in Louis doesn’t mean they deserve to be hated. They’re just like you._

One of the girls made Louis laugh and Harry forgot his previous train of thought. 

It wasn’t fair, was the thing. They had just moved into their rooms after barely making the cut, and that was only because Simon Cowell had decided to put them in a boy band. Bands were supposed to spend time with each other and be best mates and maybe have one of the members profess their love to another member so that they could get married and live happily ever after, but Harry got zero private time with Louis. The X Factor house was a food chain and Louis was at the top, garnering attention everywhere he went and making easy conversation with everyone. Whenever Harry decided to come up to him, there would always be someone else there, making Louis smile or laugh or blush, the way Harry wanted to.

Jealousy was a disease and Harry was the member of the month at the A&E. 

“Who pissed on your cornflakes?” 

Harry startled, face reddening even though he technically wasn’t doing anything wrong. “What?”

Niall Horan shoved the guitar none too gently over and plopped down next to Harry, a plate of cookies cradled in his arms like an infant. His bleached hair was spiky as if he lost a fight with hair gel and his jumper had crumbs all over it. “You look like your cornflakes got pissed on,” he repeated, eyes trained on the forgotten telly playing a riveting game of croquet. Harry didn’t even know that was a sport. 

“No one pissed on my cereal,” he scoffed. “I didn’t even eat cereal today, I had a banana and a muffin.” 

Niall gave him a weird look. Harry gave him one back. 

Niall was one of the members of the band Louis and Harry were in. He was older than Harry but not by a lot, evident by the way Louis pinched his cheeks and called him “a little leprechaun”. It was great because Harry wasn’t the only one being babied, but also awful because Harry wasn’t the only one being babied by Louis. Niall was violently Irish and had blond hair so bleached it couldn’t have been healthy. He was abnormally good at making friends, charming the pants off of all the contests and gossiping with the cleaning ladies. It was impossible to be annoyed by him, even when he stole chips off Harry’s plate while he was looking and drooled when he slept. Harry couldn’t find a single thing to dislike about him, not that he wanted to. Harry liked making new friends. And Niall was the perfect person to rant about Louis to because he stopped listening the minute Harry opened his mouth, which meant any embarrassing details about his love for the way Louis’ eyelashes fanned on his cheekbones were wiped from his brain. 

“Who pissed on your muffin, then?” Niall amended, turning back to the telly. “You look like you want to murder someone with the way you’re staring.”

Harry wrinkled his nose. “Murder is bad. And illegal. I would never murder someone.”

“That’s exactly what a murderer would say.”

Before Harry could respond, Louis’ bright laugh caught his attention, and like a moth to a flame, he snapped his eyes back towards the three. Was it his imagination or were the girls a lot closer to Louis then before?

“Your performances were amazing,” Louis was gushing to them, cheeks rosy. Even in the shitty indoor lighting, he looked beautiful. “You two smashed it. Voices like angels, I swear.”

They giggled and blushed. Harry couldn’t really blame them. He turned into a gooey mess when Louis complimented him, too. “It was alright,” the brunette replied, shrugging a bit. “Wish we could’ve seen yours, though, I think we missed it by chance.”

“It was nothing to write home about,” Louis smiled self-deprecatingly. “Not as great as yours.”

Harry wanted to interrupt them and slap some sense (gently) into Louis, but not before aggressively showering him with compliments about his audition, but he couldn’t. He had also missed it, and he wasn’t sure how that happened because if he wasn’t going to see the cute boy he pissed on in the bathroom ever again, he at least wanted to hear his angelic voice. But Harry didn’t see Louis come up at all, and soon it was his turn to sing and after all his yesses, Harry was too dazed and surprised to look for Louis. It was only by chance that they both made it through, and when their eyes connected across the sea of the other contestants, Harry swore the entire world could hear his heart pound. Unfortunately, Louis didn’t push through the crowd to jump into Harry’s arms and profess his love. Instead, once there was some free time to mingle, Louis came up to him with a blinding smile, punched him softly on the shoulder, and said, “Well hello there, Curly. Looks like I was right, you made it.”

Harry couldn’t help but blush at the nickname. “You made it too.”

Louis smiled so wide his eyes crinkled at the sides. It was starting to become his favorite sight. “Then I guess we both made it. See you later, Rockstar.”

He melted into the crowd before Harry could say something stupid, like “The way your hair falls into your eyes makes my heart flutter” or “I wish you were my soulmate instead.” 

He shouldn’t think about things like that. It was dangerous. No matter how dainty Louis was when he perched on the couch or how pretty his voice was, he wasn’t Harry’s soulmate. Wishing he was someone he wasn’t would only make it harder when he woke up from this dream. Because how long could this last? Being put in a band on X Factor with your crush and a chance of winning a record deal? Things like that didn’t happen to people like Harry. 

He shook himself out of those thoughts. It was better to live in the moment than to wonder when it’ll end. 

“Niall,” he groaned, just because he wanted something to distract him from the sight of someone else making Louis smile. “What am I doing wrong?”

“Well, for one, those shoes.” 

Harry frowned, offended. He didn’t actually expect a response. “What’s wrong with my trainers?”

Niall snorted. “They’re purple and ugly. And you wear it everywhere.”

He pouted. “What does that have to do with Louis not giving me attention?”

Niall squinted his eyes, looking at Harry and then at Louis. “We were talking about him? I thought you meant, like, in general.”

Harry sighed, slouching deeper in the couch. He wished it could swallow him whole. “He’s been talking to those girls all day. It’s not fair, I’ve barely had any alone time with him.”

“What’s stopping you?” He asked, brushing off the cookie crumbs off his polo. He frowned at his empty plate, as if confused where all the cookies went. “Just go up to him and ask if he wants to hang out.”

“What if he doesn’t?” Harry groaned, covering his face. “What if he fancies one of ‘em and they get married and have cute little Louis babies?” 

“I doubt it,” Niall snorted, standing up. “Rachel already has a boyfriend back home and Elizabeth is a lesbian.”

“How do you know that?” Harry asked, but Niall was already walking away. “Wha - wait, _which one’s which?”_

“What are you yelling about, Curly?” 

Harry perked up at the familiar voice and smiled widely at Louis, who was looking down at him with an amused glint in his eyes. “Hi Louis.”

“Hi,” he smiled softly. “You’ve been curled up in this corner all morning.”

“You’ve noticed?” Harry did his best not to blush, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. 

He shrugged. “ ‘Course, how could I not?” He plopped down next to him, throwing his arm around the back of the seat so that the tips of his fingers grazed Harry’s shoulder, and he shivered at the slight touch. “Your hair’s the first thing I look for, Curly.”

“Do you. . . .not like it?” Harry asked, hesitantly. He had always been unsure about his hair, especially when it grew too long and got frizzy when it was humid. He was glad there were hairstylists at X Factor or else he would’ve had to spend two hours in the bathroom crying over his hair like the morning of his audition. He was planning on cutting it soon, but with how hectic bootcamp was, who knew when he could have the chance?

Louis moved his hand up to rake his fingers through Harry’s curls, his short fingernails scraping his scalp gently, and it was all Harry could do not to let out a whimper. His hands in Harry’s hair was the best feeling in the world, and he wanted to curl up in Louis’ lap like a cat and never leave. It would be his home. “I love your curls,” he laughed. “Wished I could borrow them for a day.”

“I’d let you!” Harry replied eagerly. Maybe too eagerly because Louis gave him a confused smile. “I mean - uh, I like your hair too. It’s so soft . . .and pretty.”

“You think my hair is pretty?”

 _I think your everything is pretty._ His face burned bright red at the thought. He needed to stop embarrassing himself in front of Louis or else he would find someone else’s curls to play with. And if Louis found someone with better curls, he’ll marry them and have cute Louis babies with curly hair that weren’t Harry’s and he’ll be stuck with someone who didn’t smile like sunshine. Harry blurted out, “Please don’t play with anyone else’s curls!”

Louis’ eyebrows rose so high they got lost underneath his fringe. “What?”

“I -” Harry stumbled, his heart beating so fast it hurt. He was not killing it with Louis. He was doing the opposite. He was resurrecting it, which was not what he wanted. “I mean, um, do you want to hang out?”

“Hang out where? Like, in the kitchen?” 

“No, I mean, like, somewhere else,” he murmured, ducking his head so that Louis couldn’t see how flustered he was. “To get to know each other and stuff. And, like, get closer. And stuff.”

Louis was quiet for so long Harry wondered if he had already ruined his chances. He tensed, expecting the older boy to push him away and look for someone better to spend time with. He couldn’t handle rejection well. He cried every time their cat Dusty cuddled with Gemma instead of him and he once had his DS taken away during class because he didn’t want to part ways with his Nintendogs. They died three weeks later and he forced Gemma to speak at their funerals. 

Harry was so lost in his thoughts that he almost missed the change in the air around the two. “Why?” Louis asked, voice soft and hesitant. 

He blinked. “Why what?” 

“Why do you want to get closer to me?” There was something in his voice Harry didn’t like. Something that sounded almost like insecurity.

“Because you’re cool,” Harry replied. “And I like you.” Louis’ eyebrows rose again and Harry started internally freaking out. _Abort abort you’re too forward you forgot to butter him up oh my god what’s wrong with you he’s going to think you’re weird and have curly Louis babies with someone else why are you like this-_ “And we’re proper bandmates now so we should be good mates, yeah?” He rushed out in one breath. 

“I suppose,” Louis said slowly. “We could always head to Nandos once bootcamp is over-”

“My dad has a bungalow,” Harry interrupted. “So that we can have some private time together. As bandmates. To do bandmates stuff. Alone.” Was that subtle?

But Louis’ eyes lit up. “That’s sick, mate. We should definitely go soon, like a mini lads holiday.”

“Really?” Harry grinned. He genuinely didn’t think that would work.

Just then, Liam Payne, another member of their boy band, sauntered into the common room, face buried in his cellphone. At Harry’s voice, he looked up and spotted them curled together on the couch. He studied the two with narrowed eyes. 

Louis perked up at the sight of Liam, a twinkle in his eyes. He pulled away from Harry, who pouted at the lack of contact. “Did you hear that, Payno?”

“Don’t call me that,” Liam groaned. “Hear what?”

“Curly’s dad has a private bungalow,” he crowed. “Which means we get a lads holiday!”

_What?_

“What?” Liam replied. 

“Where’s Nialler and Zayn, we’re going on a lads holiday!” He paused. “After bootcamp, of course. I reckon Simon’ll kill us if we disappear now.”

“You can’t just decide on a lads holiday without talking to the rest of us,” Liam argued. 

“Curly already agreed, it’s fine,” Louis snorted. “Don’t you want us to be best mates now that we’re in a band together?” 

_What?_

“What are you two screaming about now?” Someone new asked, joining the conversation while Harry was freaking out in the corner. 

“Aidan,” Louis grinned, swinging an arm around the other boy and pulling him close for a one-armed hug. “How’s my favorite guy doing?”

_What?_

“I don’t know, ask Harry,” Aidan Grimshaw replied, but Louis just laughed. “By the way, I talked to Mary earlier, and you were right. She’s kinda cute too.” Their conversation trailed off as they left together, and Harry could only watch them go with shocked eyes. He barely noticed Liam settling down next to him with a scowl on his face. 

“God, he’s such a prick,” he mumbled. “What’s up with you, Harry?”

Harry blinked. “Do you think it’s because of my trainers? Does Louis hate my trainers?”

Liam didn’t bother responding. He just got up and left. 

Harry didn’t get another moment alone with Louis for the rest of the day. They had vocal training after lunch and rehearsals for their next live performance. After rehearsals, Louis and Zayn disappeared off to God knows where and Harry was left with Niall and Liam. Not that he didn’t like those two, he just really wanted Louis. 

His only consolation was having Louis sit behind him on the stairs, where they were told they had to film video diaries for their fans. Louis took advantage of their seating arrangement by burying his hands in Harry’s hair, and Harry’s toes curled in pleasure at every tug. And if he couldn’t help but sneak peeks at Louis instead of paying attention to the camera, well, no one was going to notice anyway. 

Louis disappeared again after the video diaries and only showed up much later, talking to another girl. Harry stomped his foot in frustration and ignored Niall’s weird looks. It wasn’t fair. But Louis wasn’t his, so why was he so upset? He didn’t even know if Louis fancied boys. What if he had a girlfriend back home? But, no - he would’ve mentioned something like that, right?

“I don’t like your girlfriend,” Harry mumbled under his breath, unaware that he was doing it. “I think you need a new one. . .I could be your girlfriend. . .” 

He was so focused on thinking about “Girlfriend” by Avril Lavinge that he didn’t notice Louis startle, glancing around him as if looking for something. The girl he was talking to cocked her head to the side and asked him something, and he gave her his full attention again, a troubled look hidden in his eyes. 

“Why are you looking at Louis like you want to kill him?” Liam asked, popping out of nowhere. 

“He’s so bloody attractive, I want to cry,” Harry answered, eyes still trained on the older boy. 

Liam frowned. “Don’t beat yourself up over it, Harry, you’re both attractive.”

It took a second for Harry to process the words. He turned to Liam and frowned. “I’m not jealous, Liam, I’m gay.”

His brown eyes widened almost comically. “What? Wait -” He swiveled his head to look at the unsuspecting topic of conversation. “ _Louis_?” His voice rose in disbelief, catching the attention of Louis and the girl he was talking to. 

Louis looked over at them with one quirked brow. Harry shook his head, begging Louis with his eyes to ignore them. He pantomimed cutting his neck and hoped that he got the message. Harry must’ve looked constipated because the girl giggled at them, and his cheeks burned. When the two finally looked away, Harry smacked Liam on the shoulder (but gently, because he wasn’t a mean person). 

“Ow, what’d you do that for?” 

“Sorry, didn’t think everyone heard you,” he hissed, grabbing Liam’s arm and pulling him down the hallway and into the empty kitchen. “A bit louder and Simon Cowell might hear it too!”

“But Simon doesn’t stay at the X Factor house,” Liam frowned, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “And can you blame me? I can’t believe Louis of all people-”

“You don’t mind that I fancy boys?” Harry interrupted, a bit unsure. He didn’t care if other people knew, or even if they accepted his sexuality. Or at least, that was what he tried to tell himself every night. Gemma told him other people’s opinion on him didn’t matter, that it was none of their business who he fancied and why, but it was easy for her to say. Her close mates didn’t stop talking to her after they saw her kiss another bloke after school. Not that Harry cared what his old friends thought of him anymore. (He did, he really did.)

Liam let out a loud laugh. “I don’t care if you fancy blokes, Harry. I care that the bloke is Louis, though.”

“Why don’t you like Louis?” From the moment they were put in the band, the two had butted heads more times than he could count. They bickered constantly, as if Louis was intentionally looking to push Liam’s buttons, and he had a lot of buttons to push. Like a remote. Like a very tense remote that started malfunctioning at the sight of Louis Tomlinson. 

“Because! He’s annoying and never serious and he acts like he’s better than everyone else!”

“My Louis is not like that,” Harry argued. “He’s super pretty and funny and smart. He’s super nice and smiles at me like I’m special and he knows where Australia is on a map.”

“That’s not -” Liam paused. He cocked his head to the side, considering. “He knows where Australia is on a map?”

Harry nodded. “He even showed me.”

“Do you. . .do you think he could show me too?”

“Maybe if you ask nicely.”

Liam nodded. “Yeah, shit, you’re right. I’ll be right back.”

Harry didn’t get to see Louis at all for the rest of the day, and he tried not to let it bother him when he went to bed that night. He shared a room with Louis, which pleased him when they were assigned rooms. It was the only double in the house, which meant Harry had Louis all to himself for eight hours, although they were both unconscious during it. It was almost like fate wanted them to be together. 

He sighed as he pulled off his top. He needed to stop thinking things like that.

The door slammed open and Harry jumped, clutching his shirt to cover his chest. Louis walked in carelessly, a grin fixated on his face. “Hey, Curly. Is it bedtime already?”

Harry sighed and dropped his shoulders. “You scared me, Louis. I almost had a heart attack.”

“Aww, are you shy, Curly? There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, we’re all men he-” Louis stopped himself and stared closer at Harry, eyes intense as they studied him. The attention made Harry’s stomach flutter. “Are those three nipples?”

“What?”

“There.” Louis pointed at his chest, his fingers inches away from Harry’s bare skin. “Are those extra nipples?”

“Um,”’ Harry cleared his throat. “Yeah. I have four of them.”

Louis’ eyes lit up. “That’s sick! Show me?”

“Um,” Harry said. With a red face, he pointed out all four of his nipples, unsure if the attention was positive or negative. He had always been insecure about his nipples. The boys at school used to make fun of him while they were changing for gym class. He started changing in the bathroom to get away from their taunts but that only made it worse. 

Harry wasn’t good at gym anyway. 

“Wow,” Louis said, face held close to Harry’s chest. He was staring with such intensity that Harry wondered what this looked like if someone walked in. Louis glanced up. “Do they all work?”

“ _What_?” His voice rose up a couple octaves. He opened his mouth but nothing came out. His brain had officially stopped working. What was breathing? What were thoughts? Harry didn’t know. He didn’t know anything except how much he wanted Louis to play with his nipples like a guitar. What was wrong with him?

Something strange passed in Louis’ eyes and he stepped back with pursed lips.His expression was unreadable, although Harry knew he just wasn’t good at reading Louis Tomlinson. Not yet, at least. “I’m just joking, Harry.” 

_I don’t want you to be joking,_ he thought. But before he could even think of a response, Louis grabbed his towel and pajamas and left without another word. 

He truly was fucked. 

Harry stared up at the bunk bed above him later that night, his eyes slowly adjusting to the dark. When they were brought into their rooms, Louis immediately claimed the top bunk, proclaiming that as the oldest, he would fight Harry for it. He didn’t really mind. He would bottom for Louis anyday. Also, it made Louis feel taller and Harry liked seeing him happy.

He exhaled slowly. He didn’t want to go to bed frustrated, but it bubbled up inside of him like a volcano and he didn’t know if he wanted to cry or scream. 

“You okay down there, Curly?” Louis’ voice floated down from the top bunk. 

“ ‘M fine,” he mumbled, so quiet he wasn’t even sure Louis heard him.

But Louis just sighed, “You’re upset. I can tell you’re doing that thing where you bite your lip to stop from crying.”

Harry released his bottom lip from between his teeth. “How did you know I do that?” 

There was some shuffling above him. “Guess I’m just observant, then. Tell me what’s wrong, mate.”

“ ‘s nothing,” Harry whispered, blinking back the tears. “It’s stupid.” _I just have a dumb crush on you even though I’m not supposed to and I’m jealous when you spend time with someone who isn’t me._

“Is it nothing or is it stupid? Can’t be both, Hazza.”

Harry smiled at the nickname, the soft way it rolled off Louis’ tongue, slurred with sleep. It took him so long to respond that Louis took his silence as refusal. 

“It’s fine if you don’t want to. If it’s personal or whatever.” He coughed, slightly. “Sometimes Lottie - that’s my little sister, she’s a pain in the arse - has boy problems and she doesn’t want to share it with me. She’s too young to have boy problems.” He laughed, the sound so airy it took Harry’s breath away. “So we just cuddle while watching Netflix instead. It makes her feel better.” Harry smiled at nothing, imagining Louis taking care of his younger sister. 

“Wanna gimme a cuddle?” It was said half-joking, but that didn’t stop Harry’s heart from accelerating. 

“Can I?” He asked. 

There was a heavy pause. Harry held his breath, afraid that a single sound would shatter whatever it was that was hanging between them, soft and fragile like a thread of gossamer. 

Finally, Louis broke the silence. “Do you want me to?”

“Yes,” he whispered. 

So Louis slipped off his top bunk and quietly climbed next to Harry, pulling the thin blankets so that they were both covered. Harry pressed himself flat against the wall but it was a rather small bed, and Louis’ body was right there. He tensed, afraid to touch because he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to. God, Louis smelled amazing. Like Head & Shoulders from the convenience store, but there was an underlying scent that was so uniquely Louis that Harry couldn’t help but inhale. They were quiet for a few minutes as Louis attempted to get comfortable. 

When he settled, he let out a huff of breath. “ ‘S bit weird, innit?”

Harry swallowed harshly. “What’s weird?” He said it softly. They were both speaking softly, as if whatever they were saying belonged to them and them only. Nothing existed outside their bubble. 

“I never cuddle with me mates back home,” he replied. “Stan would’ve thrown a fit.”

“ ‘M sorry.”

“For what?”

“For making this weird.”

“You’re not making anything weird, Rockstar. Now c’mere, I don’t bite.”

Harry moved closer to Louis until their arms brushed, and Louis lifted his arm so that Harry could settle against his side and tuck his nose into his neck. His scent was stronger here and it made him dizzy. Louis reached up to play with Harry’s curls and he almost mewled at the touch. That would’ve been embarrassing. 

“Think I know what’s making you so upset,” Louis murmured. 

Harry tensed against him. “You do?” _Was I that obvious?_

“Yeah and there’s nothing wrong with it.”

“R-really?”

Louis chuckled. “Of course not. I get homesick all the time too.”

Oh. Harry bit his bottom lip, unsure if he was relieved or disappointed that Louis didn’t pick up on all the hints he was dropping like a hot pan. “Yeah,” he exhaled. “You’re right. Guess I just miss home too much.”

“You don’t have to worry about missing home as long as I’m here,” Louis reassured him. Harry lifted his head to study his profile in the dark. Louis was on his back, head tilted up, eyes closed, a soft smile on his face. _I’m going to wake up to this_ , Harry realized. Not the way he wanted, but he still would get to see what Louis looked like in the morning as he woke up, and the thought made his heart clench. “I’ll keep you safe. I’ll be like the cool older brother you never had.”

Well. 

Sweet home Alabama indeed. 

Harry closed his eyes and tried to relax. Usually, his soulmate would be playing music right about now, and he would fall asleep to whatever band they were currently obsessed with. Harry tried not to think too much about how he basically abandoned his soulmate for a boy he wasn’t even sure liked other boys. It made him feel guilty. 

“I want us to be best mates,” he blurted out when the silence in his head became too loud. “Is that weird?”

He thought Louis must’ve already fallen asleep because of how quiet his breathing was, but he finally whispered back, “Why would that be weird? I'd love to be best mates with you.”

“I want to know everything about you,” Harry said quietly. 

“Then I want to know everything about you, too.”

“I used to work in a bakery.”

Louis let out a gentle laugh. “Must get a lot of birds then, with those baking skills.”

He sounded so impressed Harry didn’t have the heart to tell him he worked as a cashier. “You next.”

“Um, okay. I was captain of my footie team.”

“I have a cat named Dusty.”

“I have four sisters.” He laughed a little. “Wish I had a little brother, though, but I love them all no matter what.”

“My older sister Gemma wants to be a writer.”

“I’m from Doncaster.” 

_I have a crush on you but I have a soulmate and I don’t know how to tell you because I know that we can’t be together, but I really wish you were my soulmate._

“I know how to juggle,” he said instead. 

Louis laughed again, even though it wasn’t particularly funny. “How multitalented. Is there anything you can’t do?”

_Get you to like me back._

“Guess you’ll have to find out,” Harry chuckled nervously. 

Louis fell asleep before Harry did, halfway through a sentence. Harry snuggled closer to him, but he couldn’t close his eyes and sleep. His thoughts were confusing him. It felt right sharing a bed with Louis, being near him and making him laugh. But why did he feel so guilty? Why did the universe get to decide who he was meant to be with? What if Harry fell in love with someone who wasn’t his soulmate? Was he supposed to throw away all his feelings for that person for a stranger?

Not that Harry was in love with Louis. But if he was, then why should he have to give up on him?

He frowned. What was wrong with him? Soulmates were meant to be together. That’s what everyone said. He should be happy that he had one. It didn’t matter what happened between him and Louis, everything would turn out the way it was supposed to. He was just tired. He’ll feel better in the morning. 

(He didn’t.)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd. after finishing this fic is2g im gonna edit it and make it good i promise

²⁸ ⃤

_It's always have and never hold_  
_You've begun to feel like home_  
_What's mine is yours to leave or take_  
_What's mine is yours to make your own_

-Look After You, The Fray

²⁸ ⃤

  
Harry was starting to hope. It was a double-edged sword, hope. He used to think it was the most amazing thing in the world until reality knocked on his door and kicked him in the shins. It was never a good idea to hope too much for things, not as intensely as Harry did. He had the bad habit of putting too much of himself into the things he hoped for, and when it eventually crashed and burned, he lost a part of himself. Hoping for things meant risking too much, and he was scared of one day looking himself in the mirror and not recognizing the face staring back.

But. 

But Harry was starting to hope. It was a stupid, giddy feeling developping in his chest like a disease, but it made him grin. Because it seemed like they actually had a chance of winning. With every live show and every performance and every vote, every night that they weren’t sent home, it seemed like One Direction actually had a chance of making it. Of winning the X-Factor. 

And so Harry began to hope. 

They were currently high off of the kind of manic energy only five teenage boys could have after consuming three cans of Redbull each and running away from Savan, their vocal coach, who was trying and failing to get them to go over “Only Girl In The World” one more time. The Redbull was Louis’ idea. Harry wasn’t sure where he got them from since, after week 2, he was banned from consuming anything that had caffeine in it. He was stroppy about it for all of two days, complaining about his need to drink at least one cup of tea before bed, until he annoyed the employees enough that they shoved an entire box of Yorkshire tea at him and told him to shut up. 

Harry now watched him bounce all over the X Factor house, terrorizing the other contestants by barging into their conversations, hiding the remote for the telly, and putting hair gel on the palms of anyone who was unfortunate enough to get caught kipping at 4 in the afternoon. He was insane. It was adorable. 

“Harry!” Niall leapt over to him, his face splitting wide open in a crooked smile. He was always filled with such genuine happiness Harry wondered if it was actual water he was drinking from his water bottle. He wouldn't be surprised if it was spiked, even less so if Louis was the one who spiked it. “I was thinking how ‘bout me and you play a round of FIFA ‘fore they find out what happened to Matt’s pillow.”

“What happened to Matt’s pillow?” He asked, gulping down another sip of Redbull. Was his blood supposed to be thrumming this much? 

“Nothing that they can prove was us,” Niall cackled, slightly manic. Maybe they shouldn’t have drank all that Redbull. 

Harry shrugged and dropped his can in the nearest recycling bin. “Sure.”

Playing FIFA with the boys was always an interesting experience. Harry wasn’t awful at it; in fact, he considered himself rather good. But Niall was strangely competitive, narrowing his blue eyes and swearing with the vocabulary of a Scottish pirate every time he so much as lost the ball. His temper flared so often, Harry was more afraid of getting punched by the Irish menace than he was at dying. Liam and Zayn were equally as competitive, but Liam was a lot shittier at the game than he boasted. Louis, on the other hand, was a cheater. No one knew if he was actually good at FIFA or if he was so good at riling you up that you didn’t notice how much he sucked. He had no qualms over pinching whoever was currently winning, shoving his dirty feet in their faces or screaming in their ears. 

Harry was so hopelessly into him. 

Niall had just handed Harry the other XBox controller when the door slammed open. They were sitting close to the telly in the room Niall shared with Zayn and another contestant named David, although he wasn’t sure where it came from. His room didn’t have a telly. 

Louis stormed in, his eyes stormy despite the flushed look on his cheeks and his messy hair. Harry looked over at him, gaze locked on how pink his lips were. He was so focused on Louis that he didn’t notice the game start until Niall cackled and stole the ball from him. 

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath and tried to refocus on the game. He nudged Niall none too gently as he tried to trip his player, but the other boy dodged it and leaned to the other side.

“Can you just _listen_ for once-”

Harry started turning towards the source of the noise but Niall shook his head harshly, muttering, “Don’t pay attention, we’re in the middle of a match, H.” Niall took FIFA as seriously as surgeons took open-heart surgery, and while that trait was admirable during their weakly FIFA competitions (especially when Louis attempted to superglue Niall’s trousers to the beanbag chairs), right now, Harry’s attention was straying.

“Why would I ever listen to you of all people?” Louis shot back, his voice breathless and sharp and loud in the small room. 

Liam stumbled into the room immediately after Louis, red pin pricks of heat on his cheeks and mouth downturned in displeasure. His hands were clutched at his sides and if Harry didn’t know better, he would think Liam was about to punch Louis. Not only did Harry not want to see Louis hurt in any way, it would also be very bad for the band if they started fighting, especially when they were so close to winning. Harry was finally beginning to hope, and watching it get thrown away because of some silly argument would ruin him. That thought made Harry pause their game, to the displeasure of Niall. 

“What’s going on?” He asked, ignoring Niall’s annoyed groan. 

Louis rolled his eyes and dropped himself gracefully on the bottom bunk, right next to where Harry was sitting on the floor. “Payno won’t get that stick out of his ass.”

Liam bristled. “I don’t have a stick in my ass. Sorry if I don’t want to get kicked off the show because I was a nuisance to everyone around me.” His words dripped with bitterness and it was sharp enough to make Harry flinch. He had the inexplicable urge to apologize even though he didn’t do anything wrong. It didn’t have the same reaction for Louis.

“Oh piss off,” he spat, “we’re not going to get kicked off for a bit of pranks.” He seemed very confident although Harry was pretty sure he didn't actually have a clue if that was true. But Harry trusted Louis. Probably too much. He’d have to ask Louis later.

“Jesus, why can’t you take any of this seriously?”

“Suck my dick, Payno!”

Harry jerked his head up, his thoughts derailing like a French train. “Woah, woah, woah, there will be no sucking of any dicks right now.” _Not unless I’m going to be part of it._

“Tell Liam to stop being such a spoilsport, then,” Louis snapped, arms crossed like a petulant child. 

“What are you, ten?”

“Yeah, ten inches-”

Zayn, miraculously, chose this exact moment to enter the room. His entrance distracted the boys from hearing Niall mutter under his breath, “Don’t we use the metric system?” 

Harry liked Zayn. He really did. Zayn was cool and goofy and did this thing with his eyes that made the girls in the audience scream. He was also very pretty, not Louis-pretty, but pretty enough that he could understand why half the girls and most of the boys in the X Factor house had a crush on him. But the problem was that Zayn was attached to Louis by the hip, more so than Harry was. And he wasn’t jealous. He wasn’t. Because Louis was allowed to become best mates with whoever he wanted. But. But that didn't mean he had to like it.

“Zayn!” Louis exclaimed, blue eyes glittering as he opened his arms wide for a hug. 

“Louis!” Zayn shouted back, opening his arms as well.

“Zayn!” Liam interjected, arms crossed and eyes narrowed.

“Liam!” Zayn exclaimed, turning to face Liam. 

“Zayn!” Louis gasped, hand pressed to his chest as if scandalized. 

“Louis. . .?” Zayn replied, more hesitant now, eyes flickering from Liam to Louis with apprehension. His arms were still awkwardly hanging in the air. 

“Harry!” Harry added. Everyone looked at him. “What? I felt left out.”

Everyone turned back to Zayn, who was sweating under the attention. Although he was in a national singing competition as a member of a boyband, Zayn didn’t like the attention. He confessed once that it made him feel like everyone was judging him, waiting for him to mess up. They all knew this, so Harry wasn’t sure why Zayn was currently being put on the spot. 

“Zayn,” Liam began firmly, “don’t you think Louis should slow down with all his pranks before we get kicked off the show?”

“Zayn,” Louis said, shooting daggers at the other boy, “don’t you think Liam is worrying over shit that’s not gonna happen?”

Niall let out a long, pained groan, “FIFA.” Everyone ignored him.

Zayn rubbed the back of his head. He chuckled nervously. “I dunno, Tommo. Maybe Liam’s right, you do take the whole pranking thing too far.”

Liam looked all too pleased that Zayn was taking his side, his face lit up like a Christmas tree. Louis looked hurt, understandably, and it was all Harry could do not to crawl over to the older teen and, like, straddle him or something. Seeing Louis upset made something sour blossom in Harry’s stomach. Louis never got upset. He got pissed off, and smug, and cheeky, and annoyed, but never upset. Louis Tomlinson should never be upset. It should be illegal. Harry should take it up to Parliament and have the Queen decree it: _“Causing Louis Tomlinson any emotional distress is punishable by death.”_ Or something like that. He didn’t know how Parliament worked, he never finished school. 

Harry moved back slightly until his back was flush with the edge of the bed. He wrapped his fingers around Louis’ delicate ankles, carefully rubbing the little nub that protruded slightly. His skin was soft and warm and tensed under Harry’s touch, but he then relaxed. Harry liked this. The soft touches they gave each other, gentle brushes of hands against each other. He knew it didn’t mean anything to Louis, not the way they meant to Harry, but it was nice. He didn’t want to be selfish, sponge up all of Louis’ affections like a jealous girlfriend, glaring at anyone who dared to come closer. That wasn’t the kind of person he wanted to be. Louis was a tactile person, affectionate with anyone who would give him the time of day. He liked to perch himself on people’s laps and snuggle during movies, it didn’t mean anything. Harry didn’t mind the small bursts of affection Louis gave him, he really didn’t, he just sometimes wished they meant _more_.

He really needed to do something about this crush of his before it became harder to control. 

“You were supposed to be on my side,” Louis complained, effectively cutting into Harry’s thoughts. He plunged his hands into Harry’s curls and tugged a bit too rough, but Harry found that he didn’t mind it that much. (That was something he would have to explore later, when it was late and everyone was asleep and he had Google open in incognito.) “We’re partners in crime for a reason, Z.”

Zayn shrugged, looking down. He wasn’t great at confrontation either. They all knew this. “Sorry, Lou,” he said apologetically, his voice sincere and soft. “But it’s nearing the end of the competition and I think, I dunno, maybe we should try acting a bit more mature?”

“Are you saying I’m not mature enough for Simon Cowell and his stupid talent competition?” Louis mocked. There was enough bitterness in his voice to drop the temperature of the room down by several degrees. Zayn actually shivered and took a step back, bumping into Liam, who was frozen in shock at the venom in his name. Harry glanced at Louis but he couldn’t discern anything beneath his furrowed brows or narrowed eyes. He’d never seen the other boy this angry before. Stroppy yes, but angry?

It was kinda hot, he couldn’t lie.

“I never said that-” Zayn protested, but Louis turned away from him. He faced Harry and the weight of his gaze made the butterflies in his stomach flutter like crazy. It really wasn’t the time nor the place, but Harry was struck with an intense urge to bite down on Louis’ long column of a throat and leave bruises in the form of his name. He couldn’t help it, he was a teenage boy with hormones and a very vivid imagination. He had enough pent up sexual frustration to write a book. 

“What do you think, Hazza?” 

Harry blinked. “Wha. . .?”

Normally, Louis would tease him mercilessly for getting his head lost in the clouds again, but this time his lips didn’t so much as quirk up. He was serious. Uncomfortably so. “Do you think I’m not mature enough for X Factor?” 

Harry frowned. “Of course you’re mature enough. We wouldn’t have gotten this far without you.” Something that looked suspiciously like doubt flickered in Louis’ eyes, but he couldn't be certain. He hated those moments when he couldn’t read Louis as well as he wanted. 

Liam groaned, flinging his arms out dramatically. “You can’t ask Harry, obviously he’ll agree with you! You two cuddle every night, for God’s sake.”

Oh yeah.

Louis tensed and yanked his ankle away from Harry’s grip. The hand in his hair disappeared so suddenly he almost didn’t notice it was gone, but when he did, Harry had to swallow down his mewl of disappointment. “How do you know we cuddle?” Louis demanded, his voice harsh despite the blush slowly crawling up his neck. 

“You don’t really keep it a secret,” Niall, who had been lying face down on the ground during the entire conversation, mumbled. “Everyone knows it.” Harry choked on a nervous laugh. Niall was probably still annoyed about Harry ranting to him about how pretty Louis looked when he was mumbling in his sleep yesterday. It wasn’t that everyone in the X Factor house was aware that Harry and Louis sometimes (almost always) cuddled when they slept, it was just that Harry rubbed it in everyone’s faces when he had the chance to. He wanted everyone to know they had no chance with Louis, that was all.

Not that Louis knew anything about it. 

“So what?” Louis scoffed, his voice rising up with embarrassment. “I do it with my sisters all the time. It helps him when he’s homesick.”

Truthfully, Harry hadn’t felt homesick in a long time (sorry, mum!). It wasn’t like when he was twelve in sleepaway camp that one summer and he cried every night because he forgot to pack his favorite blanket and didn’t want to have nightmares. Not only did Harry grow from that experience (he made sure to pack his blankie every time he left his house, just in case), there was something about Louis that made him feel. . .settled. He didn’t have to worry about home as long as he found himself in Louis’ arms every night. Even if they were just friends. It was the only excuse he could find to convince the older boy to continue as his big spoon. Guilt prickled his skin because he was basically lying to Louis, wasn't he?

“ ‘sides, it doesn’t stop Hazza from being on my side.” He shot Zayn a withering glare. “Traitor.”

“Harry would agree with you even if you committed manslaughter,” Liam argued. 

“No I wouldn’t!” _Yes, he would_. “I just think that if Louis was going to get kicked out for pranks it would’ve happened already.”

“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t take it seriously,” Zayn muttered.

“He takes it plenty seriously.”

Harry and Zayn frowned at each other before turning to Niall, who was still face down on the floor. “Niall, what do you think?”

He let out a long groan, half-muffled by the carpet. “I just want to play FIFA.”

The thing was, they hadn’t had a row this big between them, like, ever. It was one of the things they agreed on when they decided to give this band a chance. If they wanted One Direction to work out, they couldn’t have fights that lead to them breaking up, nor could they have any secrets. Harry didn’t think they needed the rules since they all got along really well. They fit together like old friends being reunited, and it felt good. Nice. Harry didn’t expect to find three new brothers (and Louis) when he first auditioned, but he couldn't imagine ever being without them. And sure, Louis and Liam had their daily squabbles, but it never involved the rest of the band and usually dissipated the next day. They’ve never gotten this far before.

“There’s only one way to solve this,” Zayn mumbled, and they glanced at each other. 

That’s how they found themselves in the common room, the chairs pushed back so that they left space for Liam to push a table in the open space. They arranged it so that it kinda looked like a makeshift courtroom, if you squinted. And were drunk. And blind.

Niall shuffled onto the table and grabbed a plastic bottle of hot sauce to use as a gavel. He was still disgruntled over the unfinished game of FIFA, but his face was starting to light up. There was nothing he liked more than role-playing. Maybe he liked it a bit too much. Harry would have to have a talk with him soon. After doing his research, of course. 

Zayn and Liam sat together on one side of the couch, Harry and Louis on the other. Some of the other contestants peered at them strangely, but then again, this wasn’t the first time they were doing something weird and it wouldn’t be the last. But that didn’t stop Aiden Grimshaw (who Harry really didn’t have anything against, but he hated seeing him and Louis together all the time) from popping his head in and giving them a weird look. “What are you guys doing?” 

“We’re having a trial,” Niall answered, attempting to look dignified in his whitewashed overalls. “Tommo v. Payno.”

Aiden just blinked. “Why?”

“Because we’re grown ups, and grown ups solve their problems like this.” 

Aiden nodded like it made sense. “Do any of you know how trials work?”

“No, not at all.”

“Ah.” 

“Want to be part of the jury?”

And that was how they found themselves with five jury members, including Aiden, Rachel-With-A-Boyfriend, Elizabeth-The-Lesbian, Jane-Had-A-Crush-On-Zayn, and Mary (Harry didn’t know what to think about her. She didn’t hang out with Louis that much but he heard her name pass from Louis’ lips in a giggle every time he spoke with Aiden. He would have to investigate her later). Other contestants were watching on with blatant amusement, some passing around popcorn as they wondered what the One Direction boys were doing now. 

“I’ve always wanted to be a lawyer,” Harry said randomly. 

“I thought you wanted to be a florist?” Louis frowned.

“That too.”

“Can you two shut up?” Niall said with no heat behind the words. “Liam was in the middle of airing out his grievances.” 

“I don’t even know what that means,” Harry muttered, and Louis snickered.

Liam just rolled his eyes. “I just think that Louis should stop acting like a child when we’re this far into the competition. That’s all.”

Niall nodded seriously, tapping the bottle of hot sauce against his chin. “And the defense? Your case?”

“I thought they were the defense?” Harry whispered to Louis as they stood up. 

Louis shrugged. “I failed my A-Levels.” As if that was a valid excuse. He turned to face the jury, waving a bit at Aiden, and then cleared his throat. “Liam is a bitch.”

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose while the jury let out over dramatic gasps. _“No-”_

“But it’s true-”

“That has nothing to do with our argument! Look - okay, let’s start over.” Harry let out a sigh and tried to get his thoughts back in order. “What my defendant is trying to say is, he feels that the complaint against him is unfair. He’s actually working very hard and believes that there’s nothing wrong with a little pranking here and there.”

“I object,” Zayn said, then blanched as if he wasn’t sure if he said the right thing. “I think? Um, I disagree. My client believes that Louis has exceeded the limit of “a little” pranking a solid ten pranks ago. What we did to Matt’s pillow is proof enough that there’s nothing little about it.”

Matt’s head jerked up from the audience. “Wait, what happened to my pillow?”

 _“Nothing you can prove was us,”_ all five boys replied in unison. 

“Which proves my point exactly,” Liam said as Matt sprinted to his room. “One day, you’re going to take things too far.”

Louis just scoffed. “Oh please, have you so little faith in me?”

“Yes,” he replied. 

Louis narrowed his eyes. Well shit. Shit was about to go down. “Just say what’s on your mind, Payno. Don’t hold back. This is a court of law.”

"Actually, this is a living room," Niall added unhelpfully. 

“I just think,” Liam began slowly, and Harry shifted uncomfortably. “You don’t take this band seriously. Do you even _want_ to be here?” 

There were murmurs in the crowd and the jury was whispering to each other, but Harry’s senses were going fuzzy as he looked at Louis. Louis, whose eyes darkened as they stared down Liam but his face was dangerously calm. Harry didn’t like that look. He tried to grab Louis’ hand, physically pull him out of whatever weird mood he was falling into, but Louis stepped away. His voice was even when he replied, “Obviously I do, Liam. Sorry if you can’t tell how hard I work when you’re the only one who gets to fucking sing.”

“Well, shit,” Niall whispered, but the word was thunderous in the sudden quiet of the room. They didn't talk about solos. They never talked about solos.

“I’m not the only one getting solos,” Liam countered. He didn’t seem to notice just how cold the room was getting. 

“You’re right, you and Hazza gets loads,” he continued. “Zayn too, even though they clearly don’t give too much of a shit when he gets anxious before performing them. But of course, me and Nialler don’t matter, right?”

“That’s not - of course you two matter!” Liam was flustered, his cheeks turning red. This - they shouldn’t be having this fight in front of everyone. They should’ve kept this private, or at least let Louis and Liam cool off on their own. Or - or something, but not this. They never had a row this big before. They should. . . 

Harry couldn’t stop staring at Louis. 

“Um, guys, maybe we should stop,” Zayn, the voice of reason, stepped in, glancing nervously between the two boys. “I think we’ve proven our points.”

“I don’t think we have,” Louis smiled cooly. 

Harry. . . He liked Louis. He adored him even, adored the way his eyes sparkled when he talked about his sisters, adored the way his hair fell over his forehead, how soft his fingers felt against his skin. But Harry wasn’t an idiot. He knew that Louis got mean sometimes. Not enough to make him a mean person, but enough that when he was mean, he was cruel. It was like he knew exactly what buttons to push to hurt you. Louis was beautiful and had the kindest soul, but his tongue was as sharp as razors and hurt twice as much. 

“Lou, seriously, stop it,” Niall said, softly tapping the hot sauce bottle on the table. “Let’s just go play FIFA.”

“Yeah, let's forget it,” Liam agreed, rubbing under his nose repeatedly. He looked uncomfortable. “There’s no point fighting over this when we still have rehearsal to make up for. I think we should-”

_“No.”_

Everyone tensed up. 

“What?” Liam's mouth flopped open. 

Jesus fucking Christ on a bike with rusted tires and a front wicker basket.

“I said no,” Louis repeated slower. “One thing you’re not going to do is order me around.”

“What are you, a child? Jesus, do you really have to-”

“I’m older than you,” Louis narrowed his eyes. “Therefore you can’t tell me what to do.”

“You clearly don’t act like it-”

Liam was just digging his grave at this point. Harry had never gone to a funeral before and he really didn't want to. 

“This is a band, Liam. All five of us have a part to play. Sorry if you’re not good enough to make it on your own, but don’t come here with the faux maturity schtick and pretend to be the leader of the band. Because you’re not.”

Shit, right in the self-esteem.

Liam’s eyes widened. It was quiet. Uncomfortably quiet. Harry felt like his lungs would give out from how long he was holding his breath. He wanted to rewind back to twenty minutes ago when he and Niall were still playing FIFA. He wanted to soothe Liam because he looked on the verge of falling apart. He wanted to hold Louis - he always did - but he wanted to know what was going on inside his head. Because even though his lips were in a stern line and his fists were clenched, his blue eyes were swirling with so many complicated emotions, Harry wanted to take the time to unravel them one by one. 

Louis squared his shoulders and gave a deliberate blow. “There’s a reason why Simon Cowell said no.” 

Before anyone could react, Louis pushed his way out of their makeshift courtroom and disappeared into the rest of the X-Factor house. Harry stared after him for one, two, three very tense seconds before his brain restarted and he jumped into action. He ran after Louis, but the older boy was quick. Harry couldn’t find him anywhere. He wasn’t in their room or any of the others. He didn’t let himself panic. Sometimes, Louis liked to be alone and he was rather good at disappearing. Harry didn’t panic. _He didn’t_. He just needed to find Louis. 

He always found Louis. 

So focused on searching the entire house, Harry almost didn’t notice when a familiar melody started playing in his head. Almost. 

_I found God. . .on the corner of First and Amistad. . ._

He nearly tripped over his shoes at Issac Slade’s mournful voice, his brows furrowing. Man, his soulmate must be going through some shit if they were listening to The Fray. He tried not to worry. If he had to worry about his soulmate and Louis at the same time, his hair would turn grey and he would have to be kicked out of the band because he lost his number one asset. 

Louis wasn’t in the beanbag room. Or the kitchen. Or the bathroom. He wasn’t even in the practice room, where they had ran away from Savan earlier. Louis liked to be there alone sometimes, sitting behind the piano and tinkering at the keys. They were never full songs, just uncompleted melodies and fragments of music Harry could hear even after he stopped. But Louis was nowhere to be found. 

_In the end. . .everyone ends up alone. . ._

_Ends up alone. . ._

_Ends up alone. . ._

The line was repeating itself like a mantra. Harry bit his lip, wondering if his soulmate was okay. He didn’t let himself think too much about this nameless person, didn’t wonder about their name or age, if they shared the same interest. He didn’t touch the notebook he brought with him from home, the one filled to the brim with songs his soulmate listened to daily, and he felt guilty enough about it, but Louis’ presence distracted him from any self-loathing. His soulmate wouldn’t mind, he rationalized. It wasn’t like he was hoping they would wait for him, it would be unreasonable. If they wanted to be with someone else, he'd let them. So he tossed this mysterious person to the back of his mind and focused his energy on X-Factor and Louis. 

But now Louis was missing, his soulmate was clearly going through some deep shit, and he could only help one of them. 

Harry was an awful person for always choosing Louis. 

It was only by chance that Harry glanced out the window and saw a familiar shape hunched over. He didn’t think before rushing out of the house and into the backyard they used for campfires and impromptu moon howling. Louis didn’t look up from where he was leaning against a tree, his face hidden by his hair. It was freezing cold out but the sun was out, burning hot where the sunlight touched his skin. Louis didn't seem to mind. His knees were pulled up to his chest, his arms locked tightly around them, a battered iPod clutched in his hands. His earbuds were tangled but lodged firmly in his ears, and Harry briefly wondered what he was listening to. 

. _. .lost and insecure. . ._

_. . .you found me. . ._

_. . . you found. . ._

So lost in his thoughts, Harry didn’t notice Louis had pulled off his earbuds until he felt a tugging on the hem of his baggy jeans. He startled back, eyes wide as they stared down at Louis’ bright blue ones. They were red-rimmed but his cheeks were dry. Harry swallowed harshly and asked a question with his eyes. Louis didn’t reply, but he shuffled to the side and didn’t move away when Harry plopped down next to him, his head falling gently on Louis’ shoulders. His thoughts settled at the touch, the last whisper of music slowly fading away. _You found me. . ._

“What were you listening to?” He asked softly. 

Louis hesitated. “The - Actually, it doesn’t matter.” His voice was also soft, as if speaking any louder would break whatever bubble was encasing them. Harry loved moments like these, when there were only the two of them. When they were so close that they felt inseparable, when they were LouisandHarry. Like they were made from the same stardust, and the supernova that created them burst underneath their skin when they touched, the universe finally welcoming them home. These moments always meant more to Harry then they did to Louis, he knew that. 

Harry looked up at Louis, tracing the curve of his brow with his eyes, gaze tripping over how hard Louis was biting his bottom lip. It looked pink and swollen and Harry had to look away before his thoughts began spiraling. He cleared his throat. “Um, about what you said-”

“Hazza, can you-” He stopped himself, his voice rough and low. “Can we maybe not talk about it?”

“Okay,” Harry whispered, and settled comfortably against Louis’ side. After what felt like hours, Louis lifted up his arm and wrapped them securely around Harry, his fingers finding their rightful place in Harry’s curls. Harry purred low in his throat, his body melting at the gentle scratches.

(He really should research that. _‘I really like it when my best mate pulls my hair, is this a type of cancer?_ ’)

“You smell really nice,” Louis murmured, so low Harry wasn’t sure if he was supposed to hear it.

“Really?” He preened. 

“Yeah, like a girl.”

Huh. He turned his head slightly and tucked his nose into Louis’ neck. His skin was soft and he smelled like sweat and vanilla. He never thought someone's smell would become as familiar as breathing to him, but it was understandable when he lived so deep in Louis' pockets. Harry inhaled slowly. “I’m not a girl, though.” 

Louis sighed, voice tinged with something that almost sounded like disappointment. “I know.” 

Harry pulled away. Something about this moment felt like a rejection. It was an irrational fear, but it filled him with so much dread. “Lou-”

“Has anyone ever told you you look like a frog?”

Harry paused at the abrupt non-sequitur. “What?”

“A frog,” Louis repeated. “Like, an amphibian. The ones that eat flies and jump.”

Harry blinked. “I know what a frog is, I just-”

“Well, you look like one.”

Is this what people called flirting? “Am I a pretty frog?”

A smile threatened to break out of Louis’ face, but he unsuccessfully schooled his expression. “The prettiest.”

“Prettier than a girl?”

“Pretty enough to make all the other frogs at the frog ball jealous.”

“Pretty enough for the prince to kiss me and turn me into a real boy?” 

Louis choked on a laugh. “You do talk some shit, Styles. What the hell are you on about?”

Harry snorted unattractively and nudged Louis with his shoulder. “What the hell are _you_ talking about? You started it by calling me a frog.”

“I like frogs,” Louis grinned. 

_I like you._

The words were at the tip of his tongue, so close to spilling out and drowning them both, but he couldn’t. And he wanted to, so badly. Because sometimes when the two of them were alone and they smiled at each other like nothing else mattered, Harry wondered if his feelings were as unrequited as he thought they were. He knew hoping was dangerous, but he couldn’t help but hope that maybe, just maybe, Louis felt the same way. 

Louis’ smile melted away. “Oh my God, I'm a dick,” he realized. 

“What do you mean-”

He groaned and leaned back against the tree. “I’m such a dick. I don’t know when to stop, I just - I make everything worse.” 

“What are you talking about? No, you don’t-”

Louis covered his face with his hands. “I made Liam upset.” His words were muffled. “I always do that and I don’t - I don’t want to. I just. . .” He trailed off. “Maybe Simon was right-”

“Cowell?” At Louis’ hesitant nod, Harry frowned. “What do you mean he was right? Did he say something to you? When?”

“He- never mind. It’s not important. It's all my fault. I’m just- I’m so - fuck, nothing is making _sense_!” 

Louis looked five seconds away from clawing his face in distress. Harry gently pulled his hands away. He didn’t know what to do, so he tangled their fingers together. Usually, when he was upset, his mum would make him some tea while Gemma painted his nails in pretty colors. Only his toenails, though, so that the other kids at school didn’t see them. 

Louis’ eyes drifted to their entwined hands but he didn’t pull away. “Sometimes, I have these moments where everything gets really loud. In me head. And it’s like, I can’t think until I get it to stop. I have to, like, distract myself before I explode or summat. And I lash out and say things I shouldn’t and act like a complete arse. And I hurt people I care about. And it used to be fine when I was little, yeah, but after a while you stop being ‘the class clown’ and start being annoying.” 

“You’re not annoying,” Harry defended. 

He just smiled sardonically. “I’m a little annoying. It’s no wonder you lads are sick of me.”

“Hey, hey, hey, _no!”_ Harry said sternly, squeezing Louis' hands to emphasize just how wrong he was. “None of that. We could never be sick of you.”

“I’m a tit,” he sighed. 

“You’re our tit!”

Louis squinted up at him. “Sounds like the beginning of a porno.”

“What kind of porno are you watching?”

He shook his head, but he was giggling. “You’re ruining the moment!”

“You ruined it when you started talking about porn!”

“You’re a child, you shouldn’t even know what porn _is_.”

“ ‘M sixteen, I have needs!” 

“Oh my God,” Louis moaned and flopped down on the grass, his arms flung open. His eyes were closed but a blush spread on his cheeks. “Let’s stop talking about your needs, you filthy boy.” 

“Fine,” Harry muttered, ignoring the tingles in his stomach at the words ‘filthy boy’. At least he didn’t tell him that he was the cause of most of those ‘needs’. He shuffled so that he could bully Louis into lifting his head slightly in order for Harry to replace the ground with his lap. Louis relaxed once his head was cradled by Harry’s thighs, eyelashes fluttering slightly. He was so pretty. His skin looked golden in the sunlight and his hair was as soft as clouds. Harry wished he was good at art so that he could paint this moment. Everything about him was beautiful. 

_Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. Beautiful boy._

Louis’ lips twitched in a smile.

They were silent as Harry ran his hands through Louis’ hair, petting his head softly. Louis’ chest slowed and Harry would’ve thought he was falling asleep if it wasn’t for the small twitches of his mouth every once in a while. “Beautiful Boy” by John Lennon continued to play in his head, although he wasn’t sure if it was because of him or his soulmate. His thoughts became fuzzy when Louis was around. 

“My mum took me to the doctor once,” Louis began out of nowhere. “To see if anything could help me settle down. I dunno, stop me from being a tit all the time.”

“What happened?” Harry asked, working on detangling a stubborn braid he messed up on. 

Louis shrugged. “I didn’t like how they made me feel. So we stopped and it’s like the buzzing got worse. So much worse. But then it got better.”

“How?” 

A soft smile spread on Louis’ face and Harry watched it grow with fascination. “My sou- ah, I mean, I’ve been listening to a lot of music. It calms me down, imagining what it would be like if - well, it doesn’t matter. But it gave me something to look forward to.” 

Looking forward to listening to music? Harry tried not to let his confusion show. They were having a moment, Goddamnit, he had to be supportive. “So what changed? You’ve clearly been a bit, uh, mental since we’ve moved in here.”

Louis’ eyes unfocused. “I don’t know, really. It feels different this time. I don’t hear it as often.”

What the fuck did that mean? 

“You know,” Harry began tentatively, brushing the pads of his fingers against the bridge of Louis’ nose. “I’m here.” Louis glanced up at him and he barreled on before he could chicken out. “If things ever get too loud and you feel like you're going to do something you shouldn't, I can help. Even if it's just to get your mind off of stuff for a bit. I don’t mind.” 

Louis opened his mouth as if to disagree, but all that came out was a soft, “Thank you.”

When they got back inside, Louis disappeared again, but this time, Harry wasn’t worried. He knew Louis needed his alone time, and anyway, he seemed settled this time. It felt right, whatever was going on with Louis. He liked making him happy, calming him down when he became too much. It didn’t matter that Louis wasn’t his soulmate. He was Louis, and that was good enough. 

Later, Niall finally convinced Harry and some other boys into a riveting game of FIFA. It was Niall and Aiden against Zayn and Harry, and it was hard to know who was winning when Niall and Zayn were too busy swearing at each other to play correctly. Harry didn't know half those swears falling out of the Irish one's mouth existed. He was pretty sure Zayn wasn’t even speaking English anymore. When Louis entered the room, Harry noticeably brightened. But he wasn’t alone. 

He was whispering something to Liam, who had his face screwed up as if he wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or gag. But he didn’t move away from Louis, which was a first. Harry watched out of the corner of his eyes as they settled on a pair of beanbag chairs, still deep in conversation. When Liam let out a loud laugh, his face scrunched up in joy, and Louis smiled, he knew it would all be all right. 

They would be fine. 

²⁸ ⃤

  
The next day was better, or worse, depending on who you asked. They got ripped a new one by Savan, who was mad at them for skipping out on rehearsals and terrorizing the entire house. It wasn’t _that_ bad, they had done a lot worse before. They were also reprimanded for what they did to Matt’s pillow, although they still couldn’t prove it was them. Matt was fuming, but honestly, it wasn’t that bad. Sort of. If you squinted.

Louis was also banned from touching a single can of Redbull, but from the mischievous twinkle in his eye, they knew it was moot. Whatever Louis wanted, he got. 

They did well that day, anyway, and even Savan was impressed by the end. He told them as much, gushing about how they would smash their next live performance. Harry was giddy off of the compliments, and even Liam beamed. Once they were released, Zayn and Liam bounced away to do whatever it was Zayn and Liam did while Niall went straight towards the kitchen. Louis was slower to move, walking side by side with Harry, so close the back of their hands touched. Tingles shot up his veins at the point of contact, but Harry tried to contain himself. Louis tossed him a gentle smile and Harry melted inside. 

God, he adored this boy. 

They found themselves on the couch together, the telly switched on to a baking show Harry would usually love. But he couldn’t bring himself to look away from Louis, who was curled up on the other end, eyes focused on the screen. It wasn’t Harry’s fault. It was definitely Louis’, who had procured a lollipop from God knows where and was currently sucking it like it was his job to personally ruin Harry's life. It stained Louis’ lips a deep red, and when he popped it in his mouth and his lips stretched over it, well-

Like Harry said: He was sixteen and he had needs. 

You couldn’t blame him when his thoughts began to wander and an old 50 Cent song settled in his head. _I’ll take you to my candy shop, I’ll let you lick the lollipop. . ._

Louis choked on his candy. 

Harry startled. “Are you okay? What happened?” He shuffled over to him and cautiously banged on his back, although he didn't look in danger of choking anymore. Thank God, Harry didn’t know the Heimlich Maneuver. 

Louis looked from the lollipop to Harry with wide eyes, his cheeks flushed and pupils blown wide. “I, um-” He blinked a few times but his eyes didn’t get any clearer. “You'e got filthy fucking thoughts, love” he muttered, unaware of his own words. 

And - _oh._

Well. 

That was something else he would have to research. 

Low heat settled in his stomach, but before he could explore it anymore, a woman wearing a nondescript black shirt and carrying a clipboard walked into the room, eyes brightening once they saw him. “Harry Styles, I’ve been looking for you!”

Harry pulled away from Louis, who was still pink-cheeked. “Um, hi?”

“We need you for a little skit we’re doing,” she smiled. “We’re hoping to stir a bit of drama by having a romantic piece.”

Against his will, his eyes flickered to Louis at the word ‘romantic’. The other boy was doing his best not to look like he was eavesdropping. He sucked at it. 

“Um,” Harry replied, forcing himself to look back at the woman. “What kind of romantic piece?”

“We’re hoping to set up a date between you and another contestant,” she explained, looking down at her clipboard. “We all agreed that you were the best choice, you’re very popular with the female viewers and charming.”

Harry’s eyes, like magnets, shot back to Louis. “A date?” He didn’t really hear whatever else she said. 

“Yes, with Mary.”

Louis visibly tensed. 

Harry blinked. “Who?”

The assistant looked taken aback. “Uh, Mary? Another contestant here? We were thinking of having you give her a rose and ask her on a date-”

“I can’t do that,” Harry blurted out. Oh shit, what was he saying?

“Why?” The woman asked, thoroughly confused and checking the clipboard as if it would advise her on what to do. She clearly didn’t expect a rejection. “According to our data, the two of you would be popular with the fans-”

“I can’t,” he cut her off, panicking at the thought of having to pretend to be into someone else when Louis was right there. “I have, um-”

“A girlfriend? It’s fine, we can work around that-”

“-a soulmate,” he finished. 

For a moment, everything was still. Absolutely still. Then-

“You have a _soulmate_?” Louis hissed, turning to face him. He looked incredulous and hurt and another emotion Harry couldn’t read. 

“Ha ha, surprise?” Harry said, shooting him an embarrassed smile. 

“Harry!” And yep, Louis was upset. He didn’t understand why, it wasn’t a big deal. 

The assistant clearly didn’t think so. She pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a sigh. “Harry, you’re not supposed to keep things like that from us. Do you - have you found her, yet?”

Harry glanced at Louis, who wasn’t meeting his eyes. “No.”

“Jesus Christ,” she muttered. “Alright, we can work with this. It’s fine, we’ll just have to switch the position, have him reveal that he’s taken, we’ll get the romantics with that one. . .” She continued talking to herself as she left, scribbling a new plan on her clipboard. 

“Wonder where she’s going,” Harry said. 

Louis stood up. “To capitalize on your love life, where else?” He replied bitterly. 

“Wait - are you mad about something?”

“No,” Louis replied, obviously mad, but before Harry could call him out on it, the other boy stalked away. 

Weird. 

Harry didn’t see him for the rest of the day, which was annoying on its own, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. Gossip traveled fast in the X-Factor house, and somehow by the end of the day, everyone had come up to him at least once, asking if it was true that he had a soulmate. He tried not to be annoyed at their constant questions, the “Have you met her yet?” and the “How does it feel having someone else in your head?” and the “What does she listen to?” He was sure if he was in their position, he would want to know everything too. But, really, it wasn’t that big of a deal. Uncommon, yes. Rare? No. They didn’t need to invade his personal space because of his current non-existent love life. 

Liam, Niall, and Zayn cornered him together. 

“Is it true?” Niall asked, barely containing his excitement. “That you have a soulmate?”

Harry shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.” He reached past him to grab milk from the fridge. He was a growing boy, he needed his vitamin D. He needed multiple Ds, actually, but that was beside the point. 

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Liam pouted. “We said there would be no secrets in the band.”

Harry looked away, mostly because Liam’s pouts had the power to bring grown men to their knees. He looked like a kicked puppy and no one was cruel enough to kick a puppy. “It’s not really a secret. ‘Sides, you never asked.”

“It’s not really something you randomly say,” Zayn argued. He cleared his throat and started imitating Harry. “ _Erm, hi, m’names Harry Styles, I work in, uh, a bakery, and I have a soulmate_.”

Harry’s cheeks lit up. “I do not sound like that,” he said affronted. 

Niall giggled. “You kinda do.”

“I came here to have a good time and suddenly I’m being attacked,” Harry frowned. 

The boys’ snickered and even Harry couldn’t hide his smile. 

“Anyway, have you met her yet?” Niall asked, staring intensely as Harry drank the milk straight from the cartoon. 

“Them,” Harry corrected. “We don’t assume gender. And not yet.”

“Why not? Aren’t you impatient? I would be if I knew I had a soulmate somewhere. Oh man, imagine knowing there’s someone perfect for you and you had to wait to meet them? I would cry, honestly. I mean-”

“Mate, you’ve been watching too many romcoms,” Zayn snickered, shoving Liam playfully. Liam scowled at him and stuck out his tongue. 

“I’m just saying, if I was in Harry’s place, I would be bragging about my soulmate all the time,” Liam continued. 

Harry just shrugged. “I guess. I dunno, I don’t see the point when there’s Louis.” 

The three boys stared at him. Did he say something weird?

Liam was the first one to break the uncomfortable silence. “Oh my God, you were serious about that?”

“What?” 

“Your crush on Louis wasn’t a joke?” He clarified.

Harry sputtered, offended, “W-what? Why would I be joking about that? Have you seen _him_?”

Niall shrugged. “He has a point. I’d shag him.” They looked at him. “What, he’s fit. Wouldn’t you?”

Zayn and Liam opened their mouth as if to disagree but then begrudgingly closed them. 

“I don’t want to just shag him,” Harry scoffed. “I also want to hold his hand and kiss him and invite him to Christmas dinner.”

“Holy shit, you’re gone for him,” Niall whispered, horrified. “Like a proper teenage girl. You’re gonna hang his face on your wall and doodle ‘Harry Tomlinson’ on your journals, aren’t ya?”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to dot your i’s with hearts, H,” Zayn begged. Harry didn’t respond. “Oh my God, you already did, didn’t you?”

“No,” Harry lied. He’d always been a shitty liar. 

“Harry, you do know-” Liam began.

“It doesn’t matter,” he interrupted, annoyed. “It’s just a harmless crush, nothing’s gonna happen. I’m not even _that_ into him. Anyway, have any of you seen Louis?” 

They shot him looks and didn’t bother answering. 

Harry needed better friends. 

It turned out Harry didn’t need to worry too much. He eventually found Louis with some other contestants, sitting around in a circle on top of the beanbag chairs, drinking beers obtained from God knows where. Except Louis was perched on Aiden’s lap, which was fine. It was cool. Harry didn’t care. He really didn’t. He didn't glare at Aiden at all when he joined the circle. Aiden definitely didn't avoid Harry's eyes out of fear for his life. Everything was fine. 

"Hi Harry," Jane-Had-A-Crush-on-Zayn greeted him, passing him a warm can of beer he politely refused. They didn't mind him joining their group, even though he was younger. They knew that wherever Louis went, Harry was sure to follow. 

"Hullo," he said, giving them a smile. He turned to Louis and tossed him his brightest smile. "Hi Louis." 

Louis didn't seem to hear him.

A contestant Harry didn’t bother learning the name of was just finishing up a story of something he really didn’t care about. It got the group chuckling, though, even Louis, who still hadn’t bothered acknowledging Harry’s existence. It kinda hurt, he wouldn’t lie. 

“Lou, it’s your turn,” Aiden said, giggling into Louis’ shoulder. Harry’s eyes narrowed into a sharp glare. Aiden abruptly pulled away. “Best fuck ever?” 

Harry’s cheeks heated at the words. He didn’t care about Louis’ sexual exploits, unless, of course, he was involved. 

Louis just giggled, his face flushed. Even tipsy off of cheap beer, he was pretty. “A lady never kisses and tells,” he replied. 

Aiden just rolled his eyes. “Fine then. Erm, dream fuck?”

“What does that even mean?” Louis snorted. He wiggled on Aiden's lap, causing the group to erupt in laughter. Harry just frowned.

“What’s your type, he means,” Elizabeth-The-Lesbian snickered. “What’s your dream girl?”

“Girl, eh?” Louis mused, his eyes going unfocused. Harry feigned disinterest, but he scooted closer to hear the words. “Erm, pretty tall, I s’pose. Long hair.” Harry subconsciously pulled at his own hair. “Um, pretty, obviously. Eyes - like, nice eyes. Blonde hair and a nice ass-”

“Boo,” Aiden interrupted, shoving Louis off of him. “That’s not fair, you’re just describing your girlfriend.”

And that was when Harry’s world shattered. Just a little bit. 

Louis laughed, pushing Aiden off his chair and claiming his seat before the other boy could process what happened. “Shove off, mate.”

“That just means he’s loyal,” someone else added, "that's rare with guys." And everyone snickered. 

Except Harry, who was hoping his ears had conveniently stopped working. Because Louis had. . . he never. . . “You have a girlfriend?” He blurted, voice strangled. 

Something in the room shifted. Everyone glanced at Harry, but he had his eyes focused on Louis. Louis, who still wasn’t looking at him. “Of course I do,” he chuckled, but there was something odd in his voice.

“You never told me,” Harry said. His chest was getting tighter and tighter with each inhale. Something cold like lead settled in his gut. 

“Oh,” Louis replied. “That’s weird.” He still wasn’t looking at him. 

“I-” Inexplicably, Harry felt the urge to cry. 

Embarrassed, he got up and left the room, not sparing a glance back. He felt so stupid and he didn’t know why he was so upset. It was just, he genuinely thought this thing with Louis might go somewhere. He had plans to officially ask him out once they won X-Factor. He would’ve waited until the rest of the boys left to celebrate, asked Louis to come with him somewhere quiet, and then confess. And kiss him, softly, because that’s all he’d been fantasizing about since they met in the bathroom and Harry pissed on him like an idiot. 

But it didn’t matter now because Louis had a girlfriend. 

“Hey, Harry, wanna play- woah, are you okay?” Niall’s blurry face swam in his vision and he blinked excessively to stop the tears from falling. He felt pathetic, crying over a dumb crush. 

“Did you know Louis had a girlfriend?” He asked, staring down at his shoes. They were the stupid purple trainers again. He never found out if Louis hated them or not. Not that it mattered anymore. Louis didn't like him that way. 

“Hannah? Yeah, mate, he talks about her all the time,” Niall chuckled. 

Harry’s stomach flipped. He felt sick. “He never told me. He never once told me he had someone else.”

Niall stopped laughing abruptly. _“Oh.”_

Harry hated her. He hated this faceless girl, with long hair and pretty eyes. He hated Hannah, hated everything about her. Except he really didn’t. He just hated that she was the one that Louis liked. 

Hope, as he said, was a double-edged sword. When he lost it, he lost a part of him as well.

Niall rubbed his back in comfort. “What are you going to do?” 

Harry laughed wetly. “What can I do? He has a girlfriend, I can’t compete with that. He chose her instead of me. And he never bothered to tell me.” God, he was so stupid for thinking he ever had a chance with someone as amazing as Louis. 

“Harry-” 

He shrugged him off and shot him a fake smile. “It’s fine, Ni. It was a stupid crush, anyway. I’ll get over it since he has a girlfriend, it’s fine.” Before Niall could try and make him feel better, he turned and left. His room was empty when he entered it, and for once, Harry was glad. He didn’t know how he would react seeing Louis again. He needed space to get his thoughts in order. He needed to fall apart alone before he could face the world.

He crawled into bed and breathed in deeply, which was a mistake. His sheets still smelled like Louis. Like a cord that’s been cut, Harry crumbled.

Crying over your first heartbreak was such a cliche, but it felt fitting. Like the first step to getting over Louis Tomlinson. 

A melody, something sweet and familiar, played in his head. It wrapped around his heart and soothed him. His sobs subsided slightly. If he didn't have Louis, at least he had his soulmate. 

With a sigh, he crawled out of bed and dug into his backpack for the familiar journal he had left untouched for weeks. The pages were cool to the touch, his words staring back at him. Why'd he ever stop writing in it? He rubbed his tears away. Harry grabbed a stray pen from the ground and entered today's entry: 

_30/11/10: The Reason, Hobostank. "I'm not a perfect person" repeating constantly. Feels like an apology. Feels like home._

He looked down at the words, underlining the word "home" a few times. 

If Harry couldn't have Louis, at least he had his soulmate. And maybe that could be enough.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember kids, an intoxicated person can't give consent. this will make sense in the next chapter.

²⁸ ⃤

_oh i still wanna be your favorite boy_  
_i wanna be the one that makes your day_  
_the one you think about as you lie awake_

_and i can't wait to be your number, your number one_  
_i'll be your biggest fan and you'll be mine_  
_but i still wanna break your heart and make you cry_

-Best Friend, Rex Orange County

²⁸ ⃤

  
Opening the door to their new flat felt monumental, the kind of milestone you bragged about on Facebook while the rest of your friends stared at your excessive amounts of pictures in envy. Louis didn’t use Facebook, but he did send shots of the front door and the entranceway to his best mate Stan, who was probably writhing in self-loathing because he couldn’t top that. Louis bit his lip in excitement. 

He had his own flat. 

He had his own flat at nineteen and he was sharing it with his bandmate and friend. It felt like a dream come true. He squeezed his eyes shut, terrified that once he opened it, it would all be ripped away. The band, the flat, the opportunity to make a name for himself, to be more than just that kid from Donny that always laughed too loud at the worst times and gave every one of his teachers gray hair by the second month of school. But when he blinked his eyes open, it was still there. His heart caught in his throat briefly as he wondered what made him so special to deserve all of this. 

Besides him, Harry was already chucking off his clothes. 

“Harry, what the _actual_ fuck?” 

Harry paused, his fingers fiddling with the zipper on his trousers. His green jumper and the shirt he wore underneath was thrown carelessly on the floor. His pale chest was in full view, all four of those pink nubs he called nipples exposed to the conditioned air. Louis blinked and looked away from them. “What?” Harry asked, his doe eyes wide with innocence. 

Louis cocked an eyebrow and gestured at where they were standing at the entranceway. The door was still open behind them, letting in the brisk September wind. “We literally just entered the flat, why are you taking off your clothes?”

“I’m christening it,” he scoffed, as if going nude in the flat you shared with your good mate was a reasonable thing to do. It might be, in Harry’s mind. They’ve only known each other for approximately a year, since stumbling upon each other in the X Factor bathroom, but Louis felt like he knew Harry better than he knew most people. It didn’t help that Harry was an open book, every thought that entered his head blurted out in that slow and deep drawl of his. Maybe that was why Louis was so eager to agree to them living together. He needed to watch the younger boy to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid. 

He didn’t take into consideration Harry’s penchant for not wearing clothes. “At least wait until everything’s been unpacked, fuckin’ hell,” he mumbled, nudging Harry’s discarded clothes carefully out of the way with the toe of his Toms before fully entering their flat. It was a rather impressive space, the living room itself bigger than what he was used to. It had taken them weeks to find the perfect place to live, flat shopping with their mums before they went on tour for the X Factor. They had already moved the important bits weeks ago, and their mums had taken control of the decorating because neither boy knew shit about interior design. As long as there was a sofa and a T.V., Louis figured he was fine. 

It was a wonder how they ever managed to convince their parents to let them move in together. Harry had, according to his mum Anne, annoyed the entire family enough that they drove to Donny on Christmas Eve because he missed Louis too much. Harry denied it vehemently, but his ears turned bright pink nevertheless. But Louis was overjoyed because, no matter how much he loved his family and his friends, a part of him missed Harry living in his pocket. They had decided to round up their family after Louis’ birthday dinner and presented their argument as to why it was such a good idea for 16-year old Harry to move in with a newly turned 19-year old Louis. To say Louis nearly shit bricks in nervousness would be an understatement. 

“Mum, Mrs. Tomlinson,” Harry had begun, his hands clasped in front of him like he was about to deliver a sermon. 

“Please just call me Jay, darling,” his mum told Harry for the upteenth time. 

Harry nodded and cleared his throat again. It wasn’t going well, if the confused looks from their entire family was anything to go by. “We have, um, something to tell you.” 

Anne had frowned and looked from Louis to Harry with a calculating look in her eye. Her gaze was so intense Louis started sweating. “You’re not pregnant, are you?” 

Louis had laughed, the tension releasing from his shoulders at the obvious joke, but Harry had just sighed and stared at his tummy in dejection. “Unfortunately, no.”

“Thank God,” his own mother had sighed, pressing a hand to her chest. “I don’t think I can handle grandchildren right now.”

“ _Mum_ ,” Louis groaned, praying for the ground to swallow him whole. 

But she had just leveled him a serious stare. “Don’t make me give you another talk about protection.” 

“Not in front of the girls!” 

They had to explain to their parents, once again, that they were not in a relationship. They didn’t believe them, especially when the two boys asked right after if they could move in together. It didn’t help that his mum had come up to his room after they sent Harry and his family away with promises to meet up soon and gave him another one of her Talks. 

At least Louis got free condoms out of it. 

He shook himself out of the past. It was time to focus on important things, like the fact that they were currently moving into their new flat like proper adults. Louis could burst with excitement. 

He dropped his duffel bag on the nearest armchair and let go of his suitcase. “Harry, do you know what this means?”

Harry - who thankfully still had his lower half covered - was picking up his fallen clothes. His muscles stretched under his skin, although he still had some baby fat clinging on to him (If Louis stared at the miles of smooth skin Harry called a torso for longer than was probably appropriate, no one would be the wiser). “What does this mean?” 

“We can do whatever we want! We get to make the rules now, like staying up until three A.M.-”

“Or getting naked,” Harry grinned. 

“You do that anyway,” Louis scoffed. “Have you ever considered getting that exhibition kink of yours checked?”

Harry shook his head, waggling his eyebrows. “You like it.” 

_Yes, I do._  
  
Louis promptly ignored that thought. 

“Alright Hazza,” he rolled his eyes. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here. We have work to do.” 

Harry pouted at him, his green eyes glistening in the light of their flat. At Louis’ stern look, he sighed and dropped his gaze. “Fine, let’s go unpack.” 

Louis snickered at his defeated tone. Harry was going through a phase where he wanted to prove how mature and grown up he was, and while Louis wasn’t against it - he wasn’t much older than Harry, anyway, and was only an adult in name - it was hilarious to watch Harry pretend to not like eating off the kid’s menu when they went to McDonalds or started wearing blazers. He was just a kid, and a surge of protectiveness rushed through Louis. 

He focused on bringing his things into the room he claimed as his own when they visited Princess Park for the first time. It was bigger than his room at home, and the bed was King sized instead of his usual Twin. There was only one window parallel to the door, but it let in enough sunlight that he didn’t bother flipping on the lights. A few boxes were already moved in, filled with books he never bothered reading, his football kit, and some things that reminded him of Donny. He had to unpack his clothes, half of which were brand new or given to him on Christmas by relatives that didn’t understand modern day fashion, but it all seemed so overwhelming. This was where he would be living for the foreseeable future. 

He plopped himself on his bed and spread like a starfish on the thick comforter. He let his eyes shut and took a deep breath. 

Did he really deserve this?

Don’t get him wrong, he was unbelievably grateful for it all. Sure, they didn’t win the X Factor - coming in third was actually a lot better than what he expected when he first signed up - but Simon Cowell still wanted them. He had high expectations and wanted them to release an album and make it big in the U.K., like, probably bigger than Westlife. It would be a dream come true, but Louis was a bit wary. Making it big with four lads you consider as your brothers after performing a - rather successful, he’d gloat - tour to the delight of thousands of fans, it was too good to last. They always said to follow your dreams, and Louis was trying, he really was, but every dream ended at some point. 

He wondered when his expiration date was. 

“That’s depressing, Tomlinson,” he said to no one in particular. 

No one answered back, which was a relief. He liked this flat too much to want to call the Ghostbusters.

He slipped out of bed the moment an almost familiar song started playing in his head. There weren’t any lyrics but the beat was nice, so he let it envelop him in a calm peace. He adored music. He adored the music that played at random moments in his head even more. It helped when his thoughts became too lonely for one person to bear, especially when he was surrounded by people. He didn’t know how to explain just how lonely he was in a room full of people when all he wanted was the touch of one person. A person he had never even met before. 

Ignoring the dark road his thoughts were quickly racing down, he left his room and popped his head into the bedroom Harry had tentatively claimed. It was smaller than Louis’ but not by much, Harry was in the middle of the room, humming to himself and actually unpacking his boxes like the good boy he was. His closet was already filled with clothes, his bed made with a surprisingly feminine pink comforter set - not that Louis was judging - and he already had posters of various bands up on the wall. Louis didn’t bother announcing his presence, he just bounced on his bed and stared up at the Stevie Nicks poster with a sigh. 

“Hi Louis,” Harry said, amused, not looking up from a box filled with candles. Did he really need that many? 

“I want attention.”

“Okay, Louis.”

He blew out a frustrated puff of air before turning on to his stomach to watch Harry, who still hadn’t put a shirt on. Louis liked watching Harry. He couldn’t even deny it. There was something about the younger boy that captured all of his attention, not that anyone could blame him. Even in a crowd of the most famous people in the world, everyone’s eyes went straight to Harry. He wasn’t lying when he called him a rockstar that first day in the toilets. He had a magnetic charm to him that made everyone watch his next move in anticipation. He was special, and Louis was afraid that the sparkle in his eyes that glowed with the intensity of a star would disappear if he wasn’t there to shield him away from all the bad things in the world. He just wanted Harry to always be happy. 

Something bounced off his shoulder, pulling him out of his thoughts. Louis looked down at the coin now resting on the bed with a wrinkled frown. 

Harry was smiling at him slyly. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“You’re not funny,” he scowled, although a chuckle threatened to break out of his chest. 

“I find myself hilarious,” he quipped back. This time, Louis couldn’t stop the smile from breaking free. “But I’m serious, what’s up? You looked super deep in thought.”

Louis shrugged and threaded his fingers together before dropping his chin on them. “Dunno, s’bit mental, innit?”

“What is?” 

He used one hand to wave vaguely. “All this? It feels like we’ve made it, doesn’t it?”

Harry dropped the collection of CDs he was arranging and looked at him. His stare was intense, like he could pick out every one of his thoughts and Louis dropped his gaze. “Haven’t we, though?”

Louis shrugged. _Not yet_ , he wanted to say. _This could still fall apart_. Instead, he switched topics. “You ever think about X-Factor?”

Harry frowned at the non-sequitur but he humored him. “Of course, it hasn’t even been a year since it ended.” 

“Yeah, but, like, you ever think about the people we left behind?” At Harry’s blank look, Louis huffed out an annoyed breath and tried to explain his thoughts. “Like Aiden and Rebecca and Elizabeth and them? We’ve gotten along pretty well then, but it’s not like we’re going to ever see them again, right? Like Aiden and me exchanged numbers when he got eliminated but we both knew we wouldn’t ever send the first message. It’s a bit sad, innit?”

Harry’s gaze finally dropped to stare at his hands. His curly hair was getting long and it fell in his face. “All the people I’d have missed from the show are in a band with me,” he mumbled. 

It took Louis a second to process his words, but the minute he understood it, a bright grin erupted. “Aww, Harreh, you big sap. You’re bloody in love with us, aren’t ya?”

Harry’s cheeks turned red but he rolled his eyes. “I take it back, I missed Aiden the most.” 

“You hated Aiden,” Louis scoffed. 

Harry shrugged, not bothering to deny it. 

“S’funny looking back, though,” Louis continued. “Like, did you know Mary had the biggest crush on Aiden?” 

A dozen emotions flipped through Harry’s face before finally settling on disbelief. “ _What_?”

“Yeah, she was super into him for some reason,” he laughed, unaware of Harry’s silent mental breakdown. “She made me try and, like, drop hints to see if he was interested. Felt like Cupid, helping them.”

Harry’s mouth opened but nothing came out. He blinked, swallowed harshly, then tried again. “Mary liked Aiden?” 

“Yeah, that’s what I just said.”

“And Aiden liked Mary?”

“Well, I don’t think he quite fancied her the way she did him, but it turned alright in the end.” 

“But I-” He stopped himself and shook his head. “Nevermind, it doesn’t matter.”

“What doesn’t matter?” He gasped as a thought suddenly occurred to him. “Don’t tell me - you fancied _Mary_?”

Harry threw him a look. “Obviously not. I turned down that fake date with her, remember?”

Oh, yeah. Somehow, the thought of Harry not liking Mary made something in Louis’ gut unfurl. He liked the girl well enough, but he knew that she wasn’t the right person for his Harry. Then again, Harry had a soulmate, so it wasn’t like she ever had a chance. The knot in his gut tightened again at the thought, but he chose to ignore it. 

“I’m hungry,” he said instead. 

“We still have to unpack-”

“But I’m _starving_! If I don’t eat anything, I’ll die and haunt you and you’ll be stuck with me for the rest of your life.”

Harry rolled his eyes, but his lips quirked up at the sides, so Louis knew he wasn’t really annoyed. It was a good thing he decided to live with Harry because if it was one of the other boys, he probably would’ve had a shoe thrown at his face already. Harry understood him in a way the others didn’t. 

“I’ll make you a cheese toastie if after you promise to unpack,” Harry said. 

Louis grinned. “You’re the best, Curly, oh my God, I love you!”

Harry’s smile dimmed a bit, but he just nodded and got up. Louis followed him to the kitchen, which was an open space separated from the living room by a glossy-looking island and kitchen supplies Louis didn’t know anything about. He wasn’t much of a cooking guy, but he was impressed at it. He hopped on the island while Harry bustled around, pulling out the bread, butter, and the good quality cheese. Louis watched as he placed the nonstick frying pan on the stove, briefly wondering if he was supposed to be helping. There was something strangely domestic about Harry cooking in the kitchen in nothing but a loose pair of blue trousers, smiling to himself as he buttered up the bread, while Louis watched him fondly. The knot in his stomach tightened so roughly it almost hurt. 

“So what are our plans for the day, Susan Boyle?” He asked. Distractions were good. They helped. His head was too quiet lately and he had to fill it up with something. 

Harry wrinkled his nose at the nickname but smiled nonetheless. “Um, we just have to unpack and get things ready for Friday, ‘cause of the party. Then the meeting with Simon on Monday-”

“Ample time to get over a hangover,” Louis noted, planning on getting absolutely trashed at the housewarming party they were throwing for their flat. 

“Then back to the studio on Tuesday to finish the album!” He flipped over the toastie and threw an excited grin at Louis. “It’s exciting, innit? We’re gonna release an actual album soon. Maybe go on tour.”

Louis hummed, kicking his legs up and down as Harry finally placed the finished product on a delicate looking plate they bought at a flea market because Harry wanted something quirky for the kitchen. Louis bit into one and could barely stifle a moan. “Oh fuck, this is amazing. Hazza, you’re an angel.”

Harry ducked his head, but not before Louis could see his dimple popping out. No wonder teenage girls screamed for him, no one could resist those deep craters. “S’nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” Louis countered. “I feel kinda bad ‘cause I’m shit at cooking.”

Harry leaned against the island next to him, his forearms crossed so that the slight muscle he had flexed. His skin looked so soft and pale, despite the unusually warm summer they had. “I don’t mind,” he hummed. “I like cooking for you.”

That shouldn’t have made Louis happy. His heart shouldn’t have fluttered the way it did. He was just tired, and hungry. He took another bite of his food and tried to ignore the bubbly feeling in his chest. “I guess I’ll take over the washing then, to make things fair. Can’t make you be a housewife at seventeen, I think that’s against Child Labour Laws or summat.” 

Harry laughed. “I’m serious, Lou, I don’t mind being the housewife. It’s, like, practice for the future.”

“What, like marriage?” 

Harry blushed and looked away. Louis wasn’t sure what to feel.

“You’re seventeen and you already know you want to get married?” Louis asked. The answer felt monumental although he wasn’t sure why. 

“Of course,” Harry replied. “Don’t you?”

Louis hesitated. He did, he really did. Except the one person he wanted more than anything didn’t know he existed yet, and the one person who would understand how he felt didn’t even know. Not for the first time, he wondered if he should say something, because he hated keeping secrets, especially from the boys. But he reasoned that Harry kept his soulmate a secret as well, so it would be fair of him to do the same thing, right?

Finally, he shrugged. “I suppose so.” 

Harry gave him a curious look, but he didn’t say anything. The worst thing about Harry, Louis decided, other than those curls of his, was he knew when to push and when to let Louis stew in silence. Keeping a secret from Harry would be so much easier if he wasn’t so understanding. He didn’t push when he collected Louis’ empty plate and washed it - firmly telling Louis to stop hovering because “I’m fine, I don’t mind washing the plates, Lou.” - and he just gave him a patient smile when Louis flopped on the wide leather couch instead of heading to his room to unpack. Harry settled on the farthest side of the couch as well, picking up the remote and flipping through the channels for something that would get Louis’ mind off of everything. Once again, he was too fucking understanding. 

“I’m glad you’re my flatmate,” Louis said offhandedly, ignoring the knot. 

Harry paused on a rerun of a _Dr. Who_ episode he had watched with Lottie once. “I’m glad you're mine too.”

The admission unfurled something in Louis, and he smiled shyly. 

“You were my last choice, but I’m still glad,” Harry continued, ruining the moment. 

“What do you mean, I was your last choice?” Louis asked, affronted. 

Harry shrugged. “Liam and Zayn said no, and Niall was eating Nandos when I asked him and didn’t respond. Think they’re sick of tripping over my clothes.”

“Can you blame them? They’ve seen your cock more times than they’ve seen their own.” He shook his head, just barely missing the bright red flush crawling up Harry’s face or the embarrassed squeak he let out. “You’ll have to tone it down for when we have guests.”

“I’m not going to be nude when we have guests,” Harry grumbled. “ ‘Sides, you have to tell me when you have people over if you don’t want my bum trending on Twitter again.”

Louis laughed. “I doubt Stan or Ollie will care if they see your bum, they’re not interested. Well, I’ll have to double-check with Ollie but-”

“You’ll have to tell me when Hannah comes over, at least.”

“Who?”

Harry stared at him. What did he say?

“Your girlfriend?” Harry said slowly. 

It took Louis an embarrassing amount of time for his brain to restart. When it did, his eyes widened in fear, because _shit, he forgot about Hannah!_ “Oh, yeah, Hannah, of course. Yeah, I’ll let you know when me girlfriend comes round, no worries mate.”

He was such a liar. 

“Thanks,” Harry muttered, pulling his legs up so that he could curl into a small ball, his head resting on the arm of the couch. His brows were furrowed and bottom lip held captive between his teeth, the way it always was when he was upset. There was nothing Louis hated more than seeing Harry upset. 

“Curly,” he cooed, “what’s wrong?”

“S’nothing.”

“Can’t be nothing, you’re upset.” He reached over the gap between them - honestly, why was Harry so far away? - to ruffle Harry’s soft hair. He knew his sisters liked it when he gave them head massages and braided their hair, although Louis wasn’t sure if Harry liked having his hair braided. But from past experiences, he knew that Harry loved it when Louis played with his hair. He could tug the strands and run his fingers through the curly locks and Harry would let out these pleased little sounds that made his stomach heat up - yet another thing he chose to ignore. 

Except this time, when Louis tugged at his hair, Harry let out a choking sound and slipped out of Louis’ grasp. He mumbled out a rushed, “Gotta wee,” before escaping to the bathroom with a loud slam of the door. 

Louis blinked. 

That was the fifth time this had happened since X-Factor ended. Why did it feel like Harry was pulling away from him?

²⁸ ⃤

  
Their housewarming party was a success, and it had just started. Louis had managed to get all of his things unpacked and put away by Thursday, and a cleaning lady got the house sparkling because Louis was adamant Harry didn’t do all the work himself. The other boys had come over early Friday morning to get things ready, order catering and watch Louis gloat over how pretty Princess Park was. Harry was back to normal by then - or at least, as normal as Harry could ever get - and refused to put on trousers until an hour before their families were supposed to come. 

Harry also made sure not to stand next to Louis for too long and Louis pretended not to notice. 

Their families came in with a flurry of gifts and compliments, and Louis was too preoccupied with handling the twins and passing around drinks - glasses of wine for the adults, sparkling cider for those under 18 - to notice Harry’s weird behavior towards him. It wasn’t until Anne pulled him to the side and thanked him for taking care of her baby that the pang in his chest returned. He didn’t know when it started to hurt being around Harry, but he didn’t have time to figure out why. 

Their friends came next, some schoolmates of Harry’s he still kept in contact with and Louis’ own mates, bringing with them more alcohol and a promise for a very sick night. Louis took time to brag about his flat to Stan, Ollie, and Hannah, although all that came out of it was Louis grabbing Stan in a headlock because he didn’t appreciate the intricacies of his ManU posters enough. He had missed them so much. 

He properly introduced them to the band, but while Niall, Liam, and Zayn seemed chuffed to meet his mates, Harry didn’t look anyone in the eye and slipped away with a mumbled excuse. It hurt, but Louis knew a rejection when he saw one. If Harry wanted to avoid him all night, fine by him. He had other people to occupy his time. It was fine. 

What a liar.

Their mums and dads left with the kids at a respectable 10 P.M., which Ollie deemed a good enough time to break out the vodka. It was easier to ignore Harry’s weird behavior when he had alcohol, especially when he had great company. Hannah was a sweet and charming girl most days, but when you put alcohol in her, she turned into a riot. She claimed she wasn’t a heavy drinker, but still managed to best Niall in a riveting drinking competition, to the surprise of the Irish lad. Normally, Louis would be there to cut her off once she started throwing herself on other people and forcing them to race her through the streets, but Louis was on a mission to get plastered himself. Zayn and Ollie were mixing strange concoctions in the kitchen as more guests came, including a slightly stoned Ed Sheeran. Liam was relatively sober because he claimed he had bad kidneys, but Louis was planning to get him drunk so he can finally talk to that girl he’s been eyeing since she got here. What a loser. 

He couldn’t find Harry and he didn’t let that worry him as he continued chugging shots like it was his last supper. Zayn had wrangled control of the music, so when the beginning intro to Lady Gaga’s “Telephone” started, he let out a loud, “Fuck yeah, DJ Malik!”

Stan, who had the unfortunate luck to be standing besides him, winced. “And here I thought fame changed you,” he mumbled, but they were pressed close enough for Louis to have heard it. They had cleared the coffee table out of the way earlier so that there was a large enough space to have a mini dance floor, which Louis pulled Stan over to. He was veering on the edge between drunk and absolutely pissed, swaying with every step. His mind was fuzzy but in a good way, in the way that made every single problem of his infinitesimal and tiny and small and fuck, he was drunk. 

“Dance with me,” he slurred to Stan, who looked vaguely amused. “Wanna show you a cool dance from bootcamp.” Louis could barely remember it but he was sure Zayn could. There was a video of him dancing uploaded to YouTube and Louis had downloaded it on his brand new laptop the minute he saw it. He was such a good friend. 

“Wouldn’t you rather dance with your girlfriend?” Stan asked, his voice dripping with mock derision. 

Louis frowned, trying to make sense of the hidden meaning behind his words. He pressed closer to Stan and burped in his face. “What wa’ that?”

Stan pulled a face and leaned away. “You’re disgusting.”

“You’re not drunk enough,” Louis accused. 

“I’m the DD, you absolute wanker.”

Louis giggled. “Boobs.”

Stan gave him a look and opened his mouth to say something, but his eyes flickered over Louis’ shoulder and frowned. “Is that your boy over there?”

“Hazza?” He craned his head to follow Stan’s gaze, but moving his head too much made him dizzy. He started to turn around but Stan gripped his arm, tight. 

“Let’s just leave it, Lou,” he grunted, but that just made him more curious. 

He ducked out of Stan’s grasp and searched for Harry’s familiar form. He kind of wished he hadn’t. 

It was easy to find Harry despite the dimmed lighting and the crowded space. His curly hair was the first thing he saw, messy and endearing as usual. Harry was leaning against the wall, his head tipped up, a crooked smile on his face. He had on a pair of tight fitted skinnies - that was new - and an oversized jacket over a soft-looking shirt, and he looked absolutely phenomenal if Louis’ drunk brain was being honest. The sight was slightly ruined by the taller boy leaning over Harry with a smirk. 

“What the fuck is he doing?” Louis hissed. 

Stan’s grip tightened in warning. “Lou, just drop it. It’s not a big deal.” 

“Yes the fuck it is,” although it was hard to remember why. Louis just knew that Harry couldn’t be flirting with other boys at their housewarming party. He shouldn’t be flirting with anyone. 

_Except me._

_Except his soulmate._

_Except. . .someone specific._

His thoughts were getting confused. 

He yanked his arm away to the displeasure of Stan and stalked over to the nook Harry and Mystery Boy found themselves in. The closer he got to them, the easier it was to see that they were engaging in less than platonic actions. Harry’s face was flushed and he was playing with a piece of his hair while the other boy was leaning so close, one bad move and their lips would be touching. Louis clenched his jaw at the thought. 

“What the _fuck_ are you doing?” 

Harry startled. His eyes widened when he saw Louis and he put his hands up as if to push the other boy away, but he let it rest against his chest instead, his fingers curling into the shirt. The other boy jumped but he didn’t move away from Harry. Louis’ hands twitched with the need to punch something. “What do you want, Louis?” Harry asked, sounding more annoyed than relieved that Louis was saving him from the Big Bad Wolf. 

“I need you two to stay at least five meters apart,” he glared. “I don’t want to see you two near each other.”

The other boy scoffed. He couldn’t have been much older than them, although he did have an impressive stubble around his chin. Louis could most definitely grow a stubble, he just chose to shave. “I think Harry can make his own decisions-”

“Shut the fuck up before I kick you out of my flat,” Louis snapped. 

“It’s my flat too and I want him to stay,” Harry frowned, and he looked so young, pressed against the wall, his eyes too large and his cheeks too full. 

“ ‘M not letting your boy toy of the month stay any longer,” he hissed. 

Harry’s eyes widened and it took Louis a very long second for him to realize he basically called Harry a slag, not that different to what the magazine articles say when he’s seen talking with another girl. He was so young and Louis was just making everything worse. 

He swore under his breath and grabbed Harry’s arm. “We need to talk.” Harry didn’t resist at all, still reeling in shock from Louis’ words. Louis felt bad but they needed to do this in private. Liam was already looking over at them with a concerned look, mumbling to Stan. Fuck him and his infinite capacity to care about people. 

“You can’t just grab him like that-” The other boy began, but Louis shot him a withering glare. 

“Fuck off unless you want me to make you.”

The other boy took a step back and Louis didn’t spare him another glance before pulling Harry into the nearest empty bathroom. The sounds of the party still penetrated through the door as he locked it but his entire senses were focused entirely on Harry. Harry, who was growing more and more angry as the seconds ticked. He was drunk, but not as much as Louis first thought, as if the situation was quickly sobering the both of them up. Harry pulled away from Louis’ grip and leaned against the sink with crossed arms, his pink lips settled in a pout. 

“What the hell was that?” He demanded. 

Louis swallowed harshly. Harry was a lot more mad than he thought he would be. “What do you mean, what was that? I just saved you from that fucker.”

“I didn’t need your saving,” he hissed. “There was nothing to save me from!”

“He was going to take advantage!” Louis’ tongue was thick in his throat and he had difficulties swallowing. 

“I wanted him to,” Harry rolled his eyes. That didn’t make any sense. Harry was supposed to be thanking him for getting that weirdo away from him. He was the helpless Little Red Riding Hood and Louis just saved him from the evil wolf. Or something like that. 

“What are you talking about? I just pulled you away from a dangerous situation!”

“I wanted to pull _him_!” 

Louis squinted at him. “What? Why?”

Harry let out a sound that was a cross between a groan and a scream. He scrubbed his face with the palm of his hands roughly. “Because, Louis! Because I fancy him and he fancies me and I was hoping he was going to snog me before you came over and ruined it!”

They probably shouldn’t have had this conversation inebriated. Louis could barely keep his thoughts in one place, and Harry’s words stopped making sense a long time ago. His stomach rolled and for a split second, Louis thought he was going to throw up. “That’s bullshit,” he finally decided. “You’re not supposed to snog other boys.”

He was going to regret saying that in the morning. 

Harry flinched away from him. He was already pressing against the sink but it seemed as if he wanted to be anywhere but there. Louis blinked, wracking his brain for what he said that made him act this way, but everything was still fuzzy. “I thought you didn’t care about that?” His voice was thin and tense. 

Louis unconsciously took a step closer, until their chests were a breath away from touching. Harry leaned away, but there really was nowhere for him to go. This close, Louis could see the tears welling up in Harry’s eyes and something felt really wrong. Harry wasn’t supposed to cry when he was with Louis. He was supposed to take care of him. “Hazza, what’s wrong?” 

“You’re a fucking prick,” Harry answered, voice quiet. Somewhere in this conversation, Louis fucked up. 

“Wait, wait, _I’m_ the prick? I just want you to be safe and not snog anyone who gives you smidgen of attention.”

“I don’t sno- why do you care anyway? S’none of your business who I snog and who I don’t!”

Why was Harry getting so defensive? Couldn’t he see that Louis was trying to help him? He let out a frustrated noise. “ ‘Course it’s my business, everything about you’s my business.”

That didn’t come out right. 

Harry rolled his eyes. Again. What a rude little shit. “Forget it. Stop trying to act like my dad.” He tried to slip away but Louis grabbed his wrist and pulled him back. His coordination skills were shit, so he stumbled into Harry, who then bumped into the nearest wall. Fuck, he was drunk. 

“Wait, no, Hazza, ‘m just trying to keep you safe,” he tried again. “I don’t want you to flirt with other guys.”

“Why? You jealous?”

_Yes._

_No._

He was too drunk for this. 

“ ‘Course not,” he scoffed, just barely missing the flash in Harry’s eyes. “Just want you to save it for your soulmate.”

“They’re not even here,” he groaned. “Why should they care who I flirt with?”

“Harry,” Louis whined, because he didn’t get it. How did Harry not get it? He was supposed to be excited to meet his soulmate. How could he think of anyone else when there was someone out in the world waiting for him? How could he be so selfish? How could he want someone else? 

Who was he talking about again? 

“Leave me alone, Lou.” Harry said, attempting to pull away, but Louis pressed closer, pressing his forearm against the wall so that Harry was boxed in. The younger boy was going through a growth spurt, that little shit, so Louis had to lean up slightly to keep eye contact. Harry’s eyes were wide and for a moment, Louis was lost in the bottle-green color. 

“Harry,” he murmured, voice lower, and what was he doing again? He was trying to make a point, wasn’t he? He was trying to. . .to do. . . Harry’s eyes were very green. 

“Seriously, Lou, Ethan’s probably waiting for me-” 

Who the fuck was Ethan? 

In a fit of frustration, Louis grabbed a fistful of curls at the base of Harry’s neck and tugged, hard. “Harry, _listen to me.”_

He expected Harry to get mad, to knock Louis’ hand away, to disappear like he always did when Louis tried to touch him. He didn’t expect for the younger boy to inhale sharply and just - freeze. Harry’s eyes widened, his pupils dilated so much they swallowed the green, and his mouth popped open. He leaned closer to Louis’ hand but didn’t move otherwise. It was. . .strange. 

“Hazza?” He asked, his breath fanning over Harry’s face. The air around them felt charged although Louis’ movements were languid. “Are you okay?” 

Harry’s eyes were unfocused but he somehow locked eyes with Louis. Louis watched the way his throat worked as he swallowed. If he was less drunk, he would’ve stepped away by now. This was dangerous. “ ‘M tired,” the other boy finally confessed. 

“Okay,” he whispered. The four-letter word did not feel adequate enough for whatever just happened, but it was all he could think of. “Okay. C’mon, let me take care of you. Just wanna take care of you.” 

Harry didn’t protest as Louis wrapped a hand around his waist and pulled him out of the bathroom. The party hadn’t slowed down at all , but Louis blocked it all out. He brought Harry to his empty room - Thank God no one had any ideas while they were gone - and helped him out of his shirt and unreasonably tight skinnies. It took him awhile because he was still drunk and Harry was in some kind of trance, but they managed. Once he was left in only his pants, Louis helped him into bed and pulled his comforter up. 

“ ‘M sorry,” he slurred, petting Harry’s sweaty forehead. “I suck.” 

Harry frowned and said something, but Louis couldn’t remember what he said.. He said something else to him that Louis couldn’t recall before leaving Harry to sleep, but his brain was distracted as he re-entered the party. He glanced at the clock. It was just a little past 1 A.M. His head began to hurt.

Someone pulled at his shirt. “Tommo, y’alright there?” Stan asked, his eyes worried and alert. 

Louis tried to answer, but he left a part of him in Harry’s room, and every time he blinked, he saw the hazy look in Harry’s eyes when his hair was pulled. 

He wasn’t looking forward to their inevitable talk. 

Harry was still asleep when Louis woke up late the next morning. He had a headache sent straight from hell, but he still forced himself up. Hannah and Stan were curled up on the bed with him while Ollie was sprawled face-down on the ground half-covered by a blanket. It was so close to how they usually woke up every morning after a night out before X Factor that Louis’ heart twisted from nostalgia. 

His teeth were fuzzy and he wanted nothing more than to crawl back in bed, but he woke up his mates and made them wash their faces in the bathroom. It was better for them to have stayed the night since the party hadn’t ended until early that morning, but he was starting to regret it when Stan continued to give him worried looks. Although his thoughts were still fuzzy from the abhorrent mixture of alcohol he consumed, he couldn’t get Harry and that other boy out of his head. 

“You okay?” Stan asked as they sat around the dining table, Hannah muttering into her toast as she went through her Hangover Phase. They’ve done this enough times that as long as they shoved food into her and didn’t speak above a murmur, she wouldn’t throw things at their heads. 

Louis shrugged. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

Ollie’s head was pressed against the table. He was a lightweight and handled hangovers like a baby. At least he hadn’t started crying this time. “You disappeared for a bit there, I think,” he mumbled. “It looked like you and that Harry kid were having a spat.”

Discomfort rolled in Louis’ stomach at the thought of people watching him and Harry arguing. “S’nothing, eat your toast.” 

“You burnt it,” Hannah complained, but she stole Ollie’s slice anyway. 

“You know you can tell us things,” Stan persisted. “Just cause you’re famous now doesn’t mean you get to lock us out.” 

Louis was such a shitty friend. 

“Yeah, ‘course, I wouldn’t hide anything from you,” he lied through gritted teeth. 

Stan didn’t look like he believed him, but he thankfully dropped it. Ten minutes later, they were bundled up and ready to head back to Donny. Louis wished they could stay the weekend, the normalcy they brought with them made it easier for his feet to touch the ground, but Hannah had babysitting duties, Stan had footie practice, and Ollie was a ginger. 

Stan double-checked for his keys before punching Louis in the shoulder. “Give us a ring soon, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he smiled. 

Hannah pressed a kiss to his cheek and smacked his bum playfully. “Remind me never to drink again.”

Louis laughed at the blonde girl. “You say that every time. Tell your mum I said hi, by the way.” 

She winked at him. He waited outside his door and watched as his friends entered Stan’s crappy hand me down car, Hannah swearing when the alarm accidentally went off. Ollie climbed into the passenger seat since he called shotgun three years ago when Stan first passed his driver’s test and fought everyone since. He watched them drive off and didn’t leave the doorway until well after they disappeared from sight. 

The distance between him and his friends felt cavernous at that moment. 

He took a deep breath. He really didn’t want to talk to Harry yet. 

Still, he popped his head into Harry’s room and was only slightly surprised to see the younger boy still asleep. He was wrapped up in his sheets, an arm thrown over his eyes and his hair in disarray. His mouth was slightly open as he let out soft breaths, and his skin was porcelain in the morning light. He looked like a disheveled angel. Louis’ face softened. 

It would be cruel to wake him up now. Louis grabbed a couple paracetamols and a bottle of water and left it on his bedside table, pausing only to stroke Harry’s sweaty forehead. The younger boy didn’t react at the light touch, but Louis still yanked his hand away. All he could think about was the look in his eyes last night when he confessed to wanting the attention of the other boy. His stomach was in knots. Thinking of Harry with another man bothered him more than it should, but he couldn’t straighten his thoughts out well enough for him to understand why. It wasn’t like he could call Stan or Hannah and ask them for their advice - besides, he knew exactly what they would say - they were busy on the road. 

He groaned and grabbed his keys. It took him ten minutes to drive to Zayn’s flat. 

He didn’t bother knocking, he just let himself in and toed off his shoes at the door. “Honey, I’m home,” he called. 

Zayn popped his head out from a door that he was pretty sure was the bathroom. His eyebrows were knotted together and he held a toothbrush in his mouth. “Louis, how the fuck did you get in?” 

“I stole your spare key and made a copy,” he explained before dropping himself on the soft couch. Zayn’s flat was homely and pleasant, and the throw pillows he kept on the couch smelled like warm incense. Art pieces he didn’t understand were hung against the wall, although bottles of spray paint were also cluttered on the ground. The telly was on a sports channel although the volume was on mute. “Your flat’s nice.”

Zayn disappeared for a few minutes, but once he popped back out, the toothbrush was gone. His hair was messy and he had dark circles under his eyes. He still had on the clothes he wore to the party last night, albeit they were messier and there was an unidentified stain on his shirt. “What do you want?”

“Can’t I visit a mate without any ulterior motives?” Louis scoffed. He kept his eyes trained on the telly. 

“What happened to your mates from back home?”

He shrugged. “They had to leave this morning.”

Zayn settled next to him on the couch and stretched so that his feet were on Louis’ lap. Louis picked one up idly and massaged the sole. “They were fuckin’ sick last night,” Zayn reminiced. “The ginger bloke threw up in one of the potted plants, I think. And Hannah drank Niall under the table. Think he fell in love a bit with your girlfriend. It’s no wonder the two of you are-”

“I think Harry hates me,” he blurted out. 

Zayn sighed. “We really need to work on your transitions.”

Louis smacked his foot. “I’m serious. He’s distancing himself from me and doesn’t talk to me about important things anymore.”

“Look, Louis, calm the fuck down. There’s no way Harry could hate you, he worships the shit out of you. Honestly, I think he made a shrine to your name in the X Factor house. He thinks you’re the greatest person in the world, bragging to everyone that you know where Australia is on a map.” 

Louis let out a noise of distress. “But I don't! I lied! I googled it when he wasn’t looking.”

“But I thought you told Liam-”

“The map was upside down and I was too embarrassed to tell him,” he confessed. 

Zayn shook his head. “I’m assuming you didn’t pass geography.”

“No, how’d you know?”

“ _Subhanallah_ , you’re fucking special,” but he sounded impressed. “But you shouldn’t worry about things like that, Harry adores you.”

“Nuh-uh, he hates me,” he pouted. “He’s going to move out and never speak to me again.” 

“Don’t be a dramatic twat, Harry has the biggest crush on you,” Zayn rolled his eyes. 

Louis’ head snapped up. “Harry has a _what_ on me?”

Zayn froze. 

“Harry likes me?”

Zayn slowly closed his eyes and let out a tired, “Fuck.” 

Louis’ head was spinning. He tried to think back to every moment he shared with Harry, to see if there was something different in his gaze that he missed, but all he could think of was Harry and that other boy. His heartbeat quickened and he found it hard to swallow. Did Harry really think of him romantically? Sure, they had been closer than the other lads since the beginning, and Harry was extra cuddly with him, but that didn’t mean he had a crush, right? Harry was the one who stopped asking Louis to cuddle with him when they were still on X Factor, he wouldn’t have done that if he fancied Louis. Right?

“You’re lying,” he decided, overwhelmed at the thought. “You’re making fun of me, aren’t you?”

“I thought you knew,” Zayn said apologetically. 

Louis scrambled off the couch and started pacing. “There’s no way - you’re telling me Harry fancies me? How do you know? Did he tell you?”

“It wasn’t really a secret. I mean, Harry told everyone. I think even Simon knows.”

“He never told _me_!”

“Are you upset?” 

Was he? He didn’t know what to feel. His head was still aching from the hangover and the dry toast in his stomach was doing somersaults, but he supposed a part of him wasn’t shocked. It explained the ‘Larry Stylinson’ youtube compilations that sprung up on the web. He hadn’t watched any of them but he did once see Harry save them on his laptop when he thought no one was looking. But that didn’t explain why he was distancing himself from Louis. 

“That doesn’t make sense, there’s no way-”

“Stop pacing, you’re making me nervous!”

Louis turned to face Zayn. “If Harry fancies me, why does he flirt with other people then?” 

Zayn cocked his head to the side, studying Louis closely. He was weirdly perceptive, and when he stared at you it felt like he could uncover all your secrets. Louis shifted on his feet. “S’not like he could flirt with you, you have a girlfriend.” 

Louis chewed on the inside of his cheek. Zayn was right. Wasn’t that why he was with Hannah in the first place? It would be counterintuitive for him to get upset over people not flirting with him after all the trouble Louis had gone through to convince Hannah to be with him. But this wasn’t Donny. He couldn’t hide behind her all the time, especially when he was with Harry almost 24/7. Besides, it was different with Harry.

“Why does it matter, anyway?” Zayn continued. He paused, and his next words rocked his world. “Unless you also like Harry.”

Louis let out a sharp, overwhelmed laugh. “What the fuck are you on about? I don’t - I don’t even like boys-”

He shrugged. “I mean, it would make sense why you’re so jealous-”

“I am not _jealous_ ,” Louis interrupted, his voice a step away from a screech. “It’s not like that, I just want to take care of him and make sure he’s safe. I promised Anne.”

“You promised his mum to make sure he doesn’t talk to the people he fancies?” When Zayn said it out loud, it sounded stupid. 

Louis scrubbed his hands down his face. “Yes. _No_ , that’s not - He shouldn’t be flirting with other people anyway! He has a soulmate, that’s basically cheating.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Of course you don’t! You’re not-” _You’re not hopelessly waiting for the day you meet your soulmate the way I am._ He swallowed his words down before he ended up spilling more than he wanted to. “Nevermind, I have to go. The flat needs to be cleaned up.” And Harry might be awake. 

Zayn watched him shove his shoes back on his feet over the back of his couch. He didn’t make a move to see him off, that shit. He propped his chin on the couch and said, “Be careful with Harry.” 

Louis looked up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He’s just a kid. When things hurt him, it takes a while for the wounds to heal.”

He shook his head. “You think I don’t know that.” But he couldn’t stay mad at Zayn when it was really himself he was upset with. “I’m heading out, want me to lock the door for you?”

“Nah, Liam should be here soon.”

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t bother commenting. It was better to let Liam and Zayn do their Liam and Zayn thing without thinking too much about it. 

Harry was awake when he made it back home. Louis froze in the entranceway, unprepared for a confrontation. He was curled up on the couch with a throw pillow hugged to his chest, his eyes trained at the telly although nothing was on. He had thrown on a loose pair of joggers and a plain white tee, water dripping off his curls, most likely from a recent shower. His expression didn’t expose any of his thoughts. Where did his open book go?

Louis ran a hand through his hair but stepped closer to him. “Hazza, y’alright?” 

“I feel like death and sunlight hurts,” was his monotone reply. 

Yeah, that seemed about right. 

“Want me to make you a cuppa?”

Harry’s face pinched together in displeasure but he nodded. It was quiet as Louis filled the kettle with water, uncomfortably so. His head was quiet, no soulmate replaying Fleetwood Mac, no buzzing, nothing. He felt lonely. 

Harry didn’t move when Louis returned with a freshly brewed cup of tea, setting it on the coffee table littered with plastic chip bags and beer bottles. They really needed to clean this shit up. He perched himself on the arm of the couch, watching Harry’s frown get deeper. 

“Your head still hurting?”

Harry mumbled something. 

“What was that, love? I couldn’t hear you.” 

He snapped, “Stop treating me like a fucking kid.”

Louis startled. “What? I’m not-”

“You are!” He pouted, which really wasn’t helping his argument. He turned his head slightly to face Louis and his lips were bitten raw pink. “I didn’t move out of my mum’s to get a full-time nanny.”

“I’m just trying to keep you safe,” Louis argued.

“How is keeping me from fit boys keeping me safe?” Jesus, both Harry and Zayn didn’t get it. Louis didn’t even know the proper way to explain it without exposing himself. 

“You have a soulmate, you shouldn’t be thinking about anyone but her. If she saw you flirting with other people, how do you think she’ll feel? You have to think about other people’s fee-”

Harry sat up abruptly. _“Can you stop?”_

Louis paused, surprised at the outburst. “Stop what, exactly?”

“Stop saying ‘she’ like it’s a given they’re gonna be a girl,” he snapped. 

That. . .wasn’t what he was expecting. Louis opened his mouth but his brain clearly wasn’t connecting to his vocal chords because all that came out was a hesitant, “Isn’t it?” 

Harry threw him a disbelieving look. “No? Why would - you do know I fancy both, right? I like boys and girls.”

He didn’t, but that shouldn’t have been a surprise. “So what, you’re bi or summat?”

He threw his hands up exasperatedly. “Does it matter? Can’t I just like people without having to put a label on it?”

“Of course you can, I just-” he spluttered, unsure why his heart was beating so fast and why his cheeks were burning up. “I didn’t think you were actually serious-”

Harry’s lower lip trembled and he suddenly looked unsure of himself. He wrapped his arms around him and looked away. “If you have a problem with it, you can go-”

“Don’t be daft, I don’t have a problem with you liking both,” he laughed tersely. He had a problem with laughing when he was uncomfortable. “I used to do drama for God’s sake, of course I don’t care. I just-” How could he explain this in a way that didn’t make him sound insane?

He couldn’t, that was the problem. 

He sighed. “I just don’t want you to get your heartbroken by someone who doesn’t deserve you. Especially when there’s already someone special waiting for you to find them.”

Harry looked down, his lower lip caught between his teeth. A lock of hair fell into his eyes and Louis was struck with the incredible urge to tuck it behind his ears. “The only man a girl can depend on is her daddy,” Harry mumbled under his breath, his body tensed. 

Louis cocked his head to the side. “Is-” He licked his lips. “Is that from _Grease_?”

Harry’s head snapped up. “You know it?” 

“Know it? I played Danny Zuko in me school’s musical.” Stan had filmed the entire thing and uploaded it on YouTube to embarrass him, but jokes on that twat the video garnered twelve thousand views. Honestly, why was he only friends with wankers?

A soft smile played on Harry’s lips. “My soulmate was obsessed with it a while back. I couldn’t breathe without hearing “Summer Nights”. I watched the movie a million times because of them and I guess I fell in love a bit.”

“ _Grease_ is my favorite movie,” he confessed. “What a coincidence.”

“What a coincidence,” Harry echoed. He ducked his head before looking up at Louis, his green eyes bright and intense as they searched Louis’ face for. . .something. It was the oddest feeling, being analyzed by Harry. It was different from Zayn’s, simply because this was Harry. Everything was different with him. 

He didn’t want to think too closely as to what that meant.

Harry scratched his jaw as he looked for the right words. “Lou, I - I need you to trust me. I’m only seventeen but I’m not dumb. I need you to trust that I won’t let myself get hurt. You’re not my keeper.” 

_When things hurt him, it takes a while for the wounds to heal._

It was like that one line from The Script: _sometimes we don’t learn from our mistakes._

He dropped his gaze. “What about your soulmate?”

Harry sent him a bemused smile. “You don’t need to worry on my behalf. Whatever happens, happens.”

“Okay,” Louis said softly. “I’m sorry.”

Harry’s smile was hesitant. At this moment, everything was fragile. He didn’t like how uncertain everything was, how easily they could shatter. No matter what, he didn’t want to lose Harry. 

He needed to break the tension before it suffocated him. Louis cleared his throat. “You should drink your tea ‘fore it gets too cold.”

Harry rolled his eyes, but a smile still tugged at his lips. “What did I say about babying me?”

“ ‘M not babying you,” he protested. “I’m preventing you from getting grumpy when you find out your tea got cold ‘cause you forgot it, the way you usually do. I’m saving me from having to listen to your bitching.”

Harry scoffed but he fixed how he sat so he could pull the cuppa in his lap, his slender hands wrapped firmly around the mug. His legs were crossed and Louis wanted to pinch his cheeks. If he wanted to be treated like an adult he had to stop looking so fucking cute all the time. 

“C’mere,” he said before he could think things through.

The younger boy frowned. 

“It’s not a trick, Hazza,” Louis rolled his eyes. “My head’s still pounding and I need a cuddle to make me feel better.”

“That sounds like a line dirty old men use,” he snorted. 

“Hazza, gimme a cuddle,” Louis demanded playfully. 

Harry breathed out a soft laugh. “Alright, daddy.”

 _Ah_. That awakened something in him. 

He ignored it for the time being as Harry hesitantly moved closer to him, careful not to spill his tea. He pressed his body next to Louis’, who had slipped off the couch’s arm a while ago, and the contact between their skin felt electrifying. Louis bit down a grin and wrapped one arm around Harry’s waist, his palm settling on his lower stomach, the other sneaking into his hair. God, he was cuddle-deprived. 

Harry tensed but didn’t pull away. He leaned into Louis’ touch and sighed in content as Louis scratched his scalp. Louis figured they’d have to have a conversation about his hair kink one day, but they talked enough for today. The comfortable silence was enough. 

_Harry has the biggest crush on you. It wasn’t a secret._

Louis’ smile faded. Fuck, he was such a liar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter got too long so i had to cut it in half, oops. 
> 
> happy holidays


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> louis' gonna act like a dick for the next few chapters, im sorry. be patient with him, he doesn't know how to differentiate between platonic and romantic love. 
> 
> like you.

²⁸ 

_fight or flight, i'd rather die_  
_than have to cry in front of you_  
_fight or flight, i'd rather lie_  
_than tell you i'm in love with you_  
-Flight or Flight, Conan Gray

²⁸ 

  
When Louis was twelve, he fell in love for the first time. 

It was after school one miserably gray day when he was too embarrassed to walk home alone. He sat on the swings at the playground not too far from his school and kicked at the dirt with the tip of his trainers. His mum would be upset that he got them dirty again. He wished Stan was there, because he at least knew how to distract Louis when he started getting into one of his moods, but Stan had to go home early because he had a stomach bug and Louis didn’t want to bother him. 

Stan wasn’t there when those older boys laughed at him. 

He didn’t hear them call him names. 

Not that Stan could’ve done anything about them, it would’ve been two against three and those boys were already in year eleven. There was no point. 

So Louis sat on the swings and tried not to cry. He was too big to cry over insults, no matter how much they stung. His mum told him that he couldn’t let other people’s words bother him, and that he had to be the bigger person. He chewed on the inside of his cheeks, the cold air drying his tear tracts. He hated being alone, but he didn’t want to be around anyone. It was confusing and sad and fresh tears welled up in his eyes. 

God, he was such a baby. 

He rubbed at his eyes, and then he heard it. 

It was soft at first, barely a hum at the back of his mind, but Louis’s head snapped up anyway. It wasn’t coming from around him, it was too cold and wet for anyone to be at the park. It must’ve been his soulmate, then. He didn’t really know how to react to knowing that he was supposed to one day get married to whoever liked to play the Power Rangers theme song every night before bed. He was still at the age where girls were icky and weird, but he supposed it wasn’t all bad, right? Soulmates were supposed to make you very happy, according to his mum, and he wasn’t very happy right now. 

He would really like to be happy. 

Louis never payed much attention to the songs his soulmate played, mostly because they sucked, but he was alone and sad and needed a distraction before he did something stupid, like cry again. So he wrapped his hands around the chains of the swings and tried to listen. He didn’t recognize the song. Of course his soulmate would like the weirdest thing, he would be stuck with a weirdo for the rest of his life. 

He sniffled and stared at his untied shoelaces. The song continued to play and the lyrics swam in his head like tadpoles. 

_Wouldn’t it be nice if we were older?_

_Then we wouldn’t have to wait so long._

His lips twitched up at the thought. 

He let himself imagine what it would be like if he was older, if he grew into someone cool enough to fight off bullies and have people genuinely like him. He would be rich, or at least popular. Maybe a footie player. Maybe he could play at the Olympics if he was good enough. And he and Stan wouldn’t have to worry about what other people say when they see them together, because two boys can be close without it being weird, right? And he’d never be lonely, because he had her. Whoever this mysterious girl was who was meant to be with him. 

_We could be married, then we’d be happy. . ._

Louis wanted to be happy. No matter what happened in the future, he wanted to be happy. 

“I want to be happy,” he told the air. 

No one responded.

He imagined her sitting on the swings next to him, shooting him a gentle smile because she understood. She wanted him to be happy, too. Of course she did, they were soulmates. She knew him better than everyone else. She would wipe away his tears when he cried, and tell him she would protect him from the mean kids. Or - wait. He would protect her and wipe away her tears, because he was a big boy. And then he would hold her hands and walk her back home and let her kiss him on the cheek, and he would tuck a flower behind her ear, a sunflower because she would have the most beautiful golden hair, and they would be happy. 

He fell in love with the thought. 

Wouldn’t it be nice? 

²⁸ 

  
Monday hit Louis like a shit ton of bricks and he wanted to cry when his alarm went off. He wasn’t a morning person and the thought of getting up before ten made him want to puke. But when he stumbled out of his room in rumpled clothes and saw Harry in the kitchen, whipping them up a quick breakfast before they were to be escorted away to their morning meeting, a fresh cup of tea on the table for him, he couldn’t find himself all that mad. The hesitant smile Harry threw his way was enough. 

Three hours later, Louis had his cheek resting against his propped up hand, eyes unfocused as one of the men in sharp black suits continued talking about a potential contract with some agency. He tried to pay attention, he really did, but the words they were using sounded too technical and Louis still hadn’t recovered from the weekend. He swept his gaze to the side and studied his bandmates. Liam was sitting to his immediate right, fidgeting as if he was about to take an exam he didn’t study for. His hair was combed neatly and he wore an ironed button-down shirt that practically screamed, “Virgin!” Zayn was sitting next to him, eyes narrowed so much Louis was certain he was actually asleep. Niall was seated to his right, but he had his eyes trained intensely on his cellphone, which he held under the table so no one could see him play Subway Surfers. His bleach-fried blond hair was in disarray, and Louis wondered how exactly they were supposed to be a famous boy band when they were so. . . normal. He himself didn’t feel like star potential. 

He felt like a kid way over his head. 

He exhaled quietly and turned his head to the side. On his left, Harry was fiddling with the bracelets on his wrist. He looked to be paying attention to the meeting, but his eyes were wide and anxious. He had on a simple collared white shirt and chinos - what a fucking dork - but Louis couldn’t move his eyes away. 

_Wouldn’t it be nice if we were older?_

Louis hid his grin behind his hands and averted his gaze, missing the way Harry’s eyes lit up. “Wouldn’t It Be Nice” by The Beach Boys was a personal favorite of his, the lyrics automatically making him smile and calming him down when he was drowning in a pool of stress. He didn’t know if it was the same with his soulmate, but he hoped she enjoyed it. He played it so many times it became hard to know whether the song came from him or his soulmate. 

Simon Cowell clapped his hands, shaking Louis out of his thoughts and startling Zayn awake. “Alright, I think you’ve laid down your points well enough. The boys and I will come to a final decision within a week’s time and will get to you as soon as possible. I only want the best for the boys, you understand, so forgive me if we take a while to get back to you.”

The men in suits nodded, shuffling their huge stacks of paper. They were supposed to be discussing plans for signing with a label, but they had already talked to three different agencies because Simon was certain they weren’t good enough. Louis didn’t want to criticize the older man because he knew what he was doing, he was successful for a reason, but shit, was it so hard to only choose one?

Simon glanced at Louis with a disapproving look and he ducked his head, embarrassed. Sometimes it felt like Simon knew exactly what Louis was thinking, and he didn’t want him to rethink his decision to have Louis in the band. They didn’t need to have another conversation. 

When the two men left, it was just the five boys, Simon, and their lawyer, a woman named Janice with a tight bun and a glare so severe Louis was terrified to meet her eyes. Simon folded his hands together and gave them appraising looks. “Look, boys, I know you may think this is way out of your comfort zone, but I’m here to guide you. I want nothing but the best for the five of you. That means you need to have utmost trust in me, and I with you. Is that clear?”

Liam nodded his head. “Of course, Simon.” Louis wanted to rib him for being such an arse kisser, but Liam was very insecure, especially when it came to his voice. He regarded Simon as some kind of prophet sent down to make them famous, and as annoying as that was, he couldn’t blame him. Simon had the power to make or break them, and if they were going to do this, they needed people like him on their side. So if Liam was going to kiss his arse, who was Louis to stop him?

“That means,” Simon continued, looking all of them in the eye. “You need to tell me everything. Anything that could potentially harm your careers needs to be known about before we sign with any record label, or else we’ll have a shit ton of damage control to do.”

Louis shifted in his seat. 

“We already know about Harry’s. . .situation,” Simon said. Harry tensed next to Louis. Louis reached out and patted him on the thigh comfortingly, although his own heart was racing. 

Harry dropping that he wasn’t exactly single and had a soulmate wasn’t the most shocking thing to have ever happened - Harry was such a romantic, it made sense - but it did complicate a few things in Simon’s eyes. It wasn’t that a soulmate was a bad thing, or even something to make a big deal out of. They were uncommon, but not rare, people just liked a good romance story. Their charismatic, curly-haired singer having a soulmate just made people more interested in him, according to Simon. There were ongoing hashtags on Twitter of people searching for Harry’s special person, and some had even claimed that they were meant to be with him. The hype hadn’t died down, even after X Factor ended, and Louis supposed it worked out in the end if it kept Harry - and consequently, the band - in the spotlight. He didn’t have to like it, but he could admit it was a great marketing tactic. And he didn’t have to worry about how Harry handled the constant attention. Harry refused to even entertain the fact that he would find the love of his life through Twitter, that he would know when the time came. 

When you know, you know, right?

That was why Louis had to keep it a secret. He didn’t want the entire world to be part of his private business. Who Louis was in love with was between him and his soulmate. 

So when Simon asked, “Is there anything you want to spill before we end the meeting?” Louis kept his mouth shut. 

After a long, uncomfortable silence, Niall raised up a hesitant hand. “I’m not really blond.”

Zayn rolled his eyes. “No shit, Sherlock.”

Simon muttered something under his breath and dismissed them. 

They sat in the waiting room, where they were instructed to stay before a car would come to pick them up. Niall was sprawled on the gray couch, his head on Zayn’s lap as the Irish boy ranted about the delicacies of eating pickles, while Zayn pretended to listen. He absentmindedly patted Niall’s blond hair while making faces at Liam, who sat on the opposite end of the couch and had Niall’s feet propped on his lap. Harry was sitting on an adjacent chair, his gaze focused on his phone, although he occasionally looked up to argue with Niall about whether dumping peanut butter on a pickle was edible, as if this was an episode of _Master Chef._

Louis found himself watching Harry from where he was perched on a side table, an empty paper cup in his hands. His throat was incredibly dry but no matter how many times he sipped on his water, his throat still ached. Maybe he hadn’t entirely recovered from Friday. But Harry looked fine, relatively speaking. They had made up after their little spat on Saturday - or at least, Louis hoped they did - but it still felt like Harry was distant from him. He didn’t know what to do, or even what he wanted, but thinking too much about it made his chest hurt. He looked away before he could be caught staring. 

“You’re gonna end up losing your voice if you keep talking,” Liam scolded Niall, playfully pinching the skin on his ankle. “How’re we gonna finish the album if you can’t sing?”

Niall snorted. “We only have, like, three more songs to record. You’ll manage. I’ll get me clone to take over all my solos.”

“Niall, you don’t have clones,” Liam sighed. “You were drunk and saw your reflection in the mirror.”

“That’s what me clone wants you to think,” he replied darkly. 

Zayn completely ignored whatever the hell Niall was going on about. “Can you believe we’re almost done with the album?” He whispered, amazed. “You think people will like it?” 

“ ‘Course they will, what’s there not to love?” Harry asked, smiling cheekily, his dimples popping out. Louis watched it with intensity. 

“Your sexy mug’s gonna be on the cover,” Niall added with a wink towards Zayn, “all the girls are gonna go crazy for it.”

Zayn blushed and swatted at Niall’s head. “Stop it.” Despite how popular he was with the girls, he was weirdly shy. Louis was bandmates with a bunch of dorks. What did that make them, then? One Dork-rection. 

Harry would have probably found that pun funny. Shit, he was hanging around the curly-haired boy too much.

And like a magnet, Louis’ eyes gravitated to Harry. He’d rather focus on Harry than the cold feeling in his stomach that spread the longer the other boys talked about their first album. He’d rather focus on the way Harry’s cheeks bloomed pink than the fear paralyzing him, fear that they’ll be a one-hit wonder, that nobody will like their voices now that the novelty had worn off. He’d rather focus on the stubborn strand of curls that Harry kept pushing behind his ears than the thought that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t good enough for the band. What if he was going to be replaced with Niall’s clone? He didn’t want to be replaced by a clone.

Niall threw him a disbelieving look. “Mate, you’re not gonna be replaced by me clone.”

Louis startled, his face flushing when he realized the three boys on the couch were giving him exasperated looks. “What?”

“If anything, I’m hoping my clone replaces Liam,” Niall continued, wincing when Liam pinched him again. “Ow, I’m sensitive and bruise like a peach! Be careful!”

“You don’t have a clone,” Liam groaned, but Louis barely paid attention to their bickering. 

“How do you know what I was thinking about?” He asked the Irish boy, embarrassment burning his skin. 

“You, like, talk under your breath a lot,” Zayn said in monotone. He flicked his hair out of his eyes and started putting tiny braids in Niall’s hair.

“Oh.” Louis wondered what other embarrassing things he had said without realizing it. His eyes went back to Harry’s for some reason, but the other boy didn’t look up. His gaze was still trained on the phone, although his ears were a light pink. He wondered who Harry was texting, hoping it wasn’t the boy from the party.

“The car’s coming soon,” Liam announced, shoving Niall’s feet off of him. “Do you guys wanna hang out together for a bit?”

Zayn shrugged. “Haven’t played a game of FIFA in a while, could be fun.”

“Long as we have pizza, I don’t care what we do,” Niall chimed in. “ ‘M starving.”

Louis watched Harry blink down at his phone, his lips pressed together to hide a smile. Something that felt too much like jealousy stirred in his gut. 

“Harry, do you have a crush on me?” Louis asked. 

Harry dropped his phone and started coughing erratically. 

Niall fell off the couch, but Louis wasn’t sure if it was because of his own startled reaction or because Zayn had jumped up and didn’t catch Niall’s head when it landed on the ground. Liam was moving his head back and forth from Louis to Harry so fast, it was a wonder his neck didn’t snap off. 

Harry was still coughing. 

“Oh my God, Harry’s choking!” Liam screeched. “Does anyone know CPR?”

“CPR is for people that drowned, dimwit, you have to do the Heimlich,” Niall interjected, scrambling off the floor and heading towards Harry’s shaking frame. “Oh God, Simon’s gonna kill us if Harry dies.”

“Louis, literally what the fuck?” Zayn hissed. Louis didn’t get the chance to reply because Zayn grabbed him by the arm and pushed him out of the waiting room and into an empty hallway. It was quieter out there, but he could still hear Liam and Niall panicking and Harry coughing out a lung. He was equal parts worried and impressed. “What was that?”

“I just asked him a question-” He tried to defend himself. 

“You can’t ask someone who has a crush on you whether they have a crush on you out of nowhere!” He pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled. “You guys are going to give me grey hair. I’m too young and pretty to have grey hair.” 

Louis leaned against the eggshell white wall and scuffed his shoe on the porcelain floor. “I don’t see what the big deal is? If he likes me, he would just come out and say it, right?” 

Zayn gave him a look. Louis was tired of feeling like an idiot in front of his friends. “Yeah, after forbidding him from seeing other guys, he’s suddenly going to confess his undying love for you.”

“We made up,” he rolled his eyes, although technically they just agreed not to talk about it anymore. But that was the same thing, right?

“What do you even want to happen if he admits it?” Zayn asked. 

Louis opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He didn’t really know what he wanted, other than for Harry to stop seeing other guys. Being around Harry confused him, but not being around him confused him even more. He hated feeling this way. He just wanted to take care of the younger boy, that’s all there was to it. So why did everything feel so complicated?

Zayn’s phone buzzed and he pulled it out. “The car’s here. C’mon, lets get the boys and go before you say something stupid again.”

They made it back to Princess Park without further incident, although Harry hadn't looked Louis in the eye at all as they climbed inside the car. He wasn’t sure how Niall and Liam topped Harry from being signed into the A&E, but he looked fine, if a little pink-faced. The tension between them was noticeably thick, even without the other three boys eyeing them as if they were one misguided comment away from snapping. The sigh of relief Louis felt when he unlocked their front door was therapeutic. Whatever weird energy was building up in the car disappeared the moment Niall let out a loud whoop and jumped headfirst on to their sofa, cackling when there was a crash. Zayn muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “I hate this fucking band,” before disappearing to the kitchen for snacks. Liam ignored Niall and started setting up the game, FIFA up on the telly in less than ten minutes. And Harry -

Harry was still on his stupid fucking phone. 

“You’re glaring,” Zayn murmured as he passed Louis with a bowl of crisps and some beers. 

“I’m not, piss off,” Louis snapped, settling on the couch, where Niall wasn’t sprawled like a starfish. “Pass me the controller, I feel like kicking arse.” 

“Yeah, you wanna do something with an arse, just not kicking it,” Zayn snickered. 

Louis threw his shoe at his head. 

Harry didn’t even spare them a glance.

Louis tried to focus on kicking Liam’s pale arse, but his eyes kept straying to Harry’s form, curled up on their loveseat. He had changed earlier into a loose pair of sweats and wore fuzzy socks with ugly reindeers stitched on them, despite the fact that it was still September. He wasn’t even pretending to pay attention to the game, his focus entirely on his phone. Louis was pissed off. Who was Harry texting that was more important than hanging out with his friends?

“You okay, mate?” Niall asked, chomping obnoxiously on the crisps and nudging Louis’ shoulder with his smelly socks. 

“Peachy,” Louis mumbled. He was going to sneak into Niall’s flat and shave off his eyebrows.

Louis’ breaking point happened about ten minutes later, while Niall was swearing at Zayn for stealing the ball and Zayn just cackled evilly. Harry let out a loud giggle and Louis paused. He had been in the middle of giving Liam a wet willy - because, no matter how close they had become, the urge to mess with him never left - but he couldn’t help but turn to Harry. Harry, who had pink cheeks and was grinning like the Cheshire cat (Ha ha, Cheshire . . . because Harry was from. . . and the cat was called . . . he was spending way too much time with Harry).

“I’m heading to the loo,” Harry announced to no one in particular, before bringing his phone up to his ear and disappearing further into their flat. 

“What the fuck was that?” Louis asked. 

Niall glanced at him, a tongue sticking out his mouth. “What was what?”

“Louis, please get your finger out of my ear,” Liam groaned, stuck in Louis’ headlock. 

Louis shoved him away and took another swing of beer, irritation bubbling in his chest. “Who was he texting all day?”

Zayn mouthed, ‘Jealous’, at him but Louis ignored it. 

Niall squinted at nothing before shrugging. “Think it’s that bloke he’s been talking to. Ethan or something.”

“Who the fuck is _Ethan_?”

Liam, who had the critical thinking skills of a half-burnt piece of waffle dropped on the floor, ignored the frustration Louis was emitting like a radioactive bomb. “He’s that guy Harry was flirting with at your party, remember? Super tall, older, has this sick facial hair thing going on-”

“Liam,” Zayn groaned, “mate, shut the fuck up.” 

Liam looked offended. “What? I like Ethan. He’s better than that last chick Harry was seeing, Caroline or whatever.”

Louis scowled. “I told him he shouldn’t be seeing other people. He didn’t tell me it was serious enough for them to be talking! They’re one step away from having sex and then getting his heart broken when he inevitably leaves Harry!”

All three boys looked at him strangely. He may have said more than he should’ve. “I think you’ve been watching too many romance films, mate,” Liam said. 

“Why does it matter,” Niall added, scoring another goal against Zayn while the other boy groaned. “He can date whoever he wants, you’re not his mum.”

Louis was tired of having the same conversation over and over again. He huffed and crossed his arms. “That’s not what this is about. Besides, it would be an honor to be Anne.”

Harry chose this moment to walk back inside. He froze at the entranceway, his brows furrowed as he swept his gaze around the living room. The boys awkwardly turned back to the telly. “Are you guys talking about my mum again?”

“Can you blame us? She’s super hot.” 

Harry stared at Niall. 

And then he kicked them out. 

Louis watched Harry as he grumbled to himself while picking up the stray cans of beer and swept the crumbs Niall left on the couch. He felt like he should be helping, but he was frozen. He didn’t know what was wrong with him, why being alone with Harry felt like the most amazing and terrifying thing in the world. Maybe living together was a mistake. Louis couldn’t do it. If he didn’t get this weird feeling under control he would probably end up suffocating Harry with his pillow. Or something. 

“You never answered my question,” he said instead, when Harry finished and dropped on the other side of the couch. It was a similar position to where they were when they argued on Saturday. It seemed like they would continue finding themselves in the same place, like fixed points in the skies, or a continuously repeating line in a song. Or something.

“What question?” Harry asked as he turned off the Playstation and switched it back to the cable. There was a boring reality series on but because Harry lacked serious taste in television, he kept it on. 

“Do you have a crush on me?”

Harry muted the telly. 

The silence enveloping them was awkward and Louis had a hard time breathing. He shifted in his seat, but when Harry turned to look at him, he held his gaze. Once again, Louis couldn’t decipher the emotions swirling in his green eyes. Harry cocked his head to the side, his lips pressed tightly together. 

“Do you want me to tell the truth, or do you want to stay friends?” He finally asked. 

Louis blinked at the response. “Nothing you could say would ever stop me from being friends with you.” Harry raised an eyebrow. “Alright, if you support Chelsea I’ll dump your body in the Thames, but other than that, I would never stop being your friend.”

Harry dropped his gaze and started playing with his bracelets again. “I mean, I guess I did. Back on X Factor, when everything was brand new and you were so -” A shy smile popped on his face and Louis blushed, despite himself. “You were so cool, and I might have gotten a small crush on you.”

The admission filed Louis with something he couldn’t describe. Something sickly sweet. He got his answer, but he didn’t factor in how it would make him feel. Embarrassed, because Harry had liked him when he was his most obnoxious? Pleased, because anyone having a crush on him was a miraculous thing? Hurt, because Harry didn’t trust Louis enough to tell him? All these feelings swirled inside of him and it made him sick. 

He thought they were close enough that they told each other everything?

Well, almost everything. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, fidgeting with the sleeves of his jumper. 

Harry’s smile fell off his face. “I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. ‘Sides, you have a girlfriend. I didn’t think I could handle a rejection from you if I confessed. You were my first real crush, y’know.”

Louis felt like a dick. He didn’t even know why, it wasn’t like he liked Harry that way. But he could only imagine what it was like being Harry, his sweet, sensitive Harry, who felt too much and believed in the good things in life, having to go through his first heartbreak by himself. He didn’t think. He reached over and pulled a startled Harry into his lap, his arms finding its place around his thin waist. Harry was getting big, but he still curled up as he settled on Louis’ lap to make him smaller. Louis hooked his chin over Harry’s shoulder, wrinkling his nose as Harry’s curls tickled his skin. 

“ ‘M sorry,” he mumbled. 

“For what?” Harry laughed softly. “I’m the one that had a crush on you, it’s my fault.” 

Louis frowned and pinched the soft skin on Harry’s belly. “Don’t say that, you can’t help who you like.”

Louis was aware he sounded like a hypocrite considering it wasn’t even fifteen minutes ago when he was upset over Harry liking Ethan, but he wore that badge with pride. He never said he was a saint when Harry was involved. But then his brain rewinded to what Harry had said. 

_You were my first real crush_. 

“Wait, do you still have a crush on me?”

Harry didn’t look back at Louis. He kept his gaze focused on the muted telly, his fingers absently tapping on his thighs. “No.” 

It was quiet again. Not necessarily uncomfortable, but tense. He was hyper aware of Harry in his arms, his warm skin scorching. Harry smelled like cheap soap and vanilla and something sweet. Harry smelled better than any girl Louis had ever met, for some weird reason. 

Harry slipped off of Louis’ lap with an embarrassed smile. “ ‘M gonna go make dinner.” 

Louis nodded and stared at his hands. Harry didn’t have a crush on him anymore, so whatever Zayn was on about didn’t matter. 

Why did he feel so disappointed, then?

²⁸ 

  
The next few weeks passed by in a blur of recording and when they finally finished the last bit for their album, _Take Me Home_ , Louis felt the urge to celebrate. So that Saturday, he called his mates up to get shitfaced before regretting everything Sunday morning. Louis wasn’t much of a party person by nature, comfortable with staying home and marathoning Harry Potter for the third time in a row, but he felt like he deserved this. 

He currently sat at the dining table, decked out in his nicest pair of red trousers that made his bum look amazing, a fitted white top, and a new pair of trainers. He watched Hannah dig through her make-up bag, wisps of blonde hair falling from her messy bun. They were supposed to have left a while ago but she declared herself ugly and refused to leave until she at least looked presentable. Louis didn’t know what it was with girls and the weird phases they had when they hated everything about themselves. He knew in about thirty minutes Hannah would go back to thinking she was the hottest thing to ever grace the Earth. He didn’t understand girls. 

Zayn and Ollie were playing a quick game of FIFA while Luke was playing a riveting game of Candy Crush on his phone. He was adamant that he beat his earlier high score. Stan was texting a girl he was flirting with, which would probably go nowhere because he had awful luck with women. And Harry - well. 

Harry was pouting. 

“I wanna come,” he whined, hands planted on the dining table as he leaned forwards. He was still in his pajamas. 

Louis rolled his eyes. “You can’t come to the club with us, you’re still seventeen.”

“But you can sneak me in,” he proposed, eyes wide as if that would help him look older. Harry hadn’t been feeling too good either, so even if Louis wanted to sneak him in, he would rather see him stay home and recover from his brief sick spell. 

“No.”

Harry scowled and crossed his arms. 

“Lou, d’you mind helping me?” Hannah asked, pulling Louis’ attention away. In front of her, she had her concealer, a few containers of blush, and an old makeup palette he was pretty sure he got her for her sixteenth birthday. “I need you to make me pretty.” 

“You always look pretty,” he said automatically. He had four sisters, he knew how to handle them. 

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Harry’s frown deepen.

“Put make up on me, please,” she pouted, batting her lashes. 

Louis sighed. He should get an award for being the world’s greatest friend. He moved his chair closer to Hannah and studied her face. She was wearing a bright blue tube dress, so something understated would probably work best. She already had a concealer on, so he focused on applying a thin layer of silvery eye shadow with the make up brush. He bit his lip in concentration as he applied it on both eyelids, one hand cupping her chin to help him. She sat patiently underneath him, already used to this. He then added a light blue shade, careful to blend it on top because last time Lottie screamed at him for messing it up. He didn’t notice Harry staring until he dropped the brush to look for some lip gloss. 

Except, Harry was staring at Hannah’s face with the strangest look. His eyes were wide and unfocused as he watched Hannah pucker out her lips. He didn’t look jealous, just . . . interested. The same way Lottie looked when she saw the pretty girls on the telly she wanted to look like. 

“You okay, Hazza?” He asked, carefully applying the lip gloss. 

Harry snapped out of his reverie. “Uh, yeah, I just -” He coughed into his hands. “How do you know how to do make up?”

He shrugged and picked up a different brush with a pale pink blush. “I have four sisters and used to do drama. You pick up these things.”

“Could you maybe-” He stopped himself and stood up abruptly. 

Louis looked up. “What’s up?”

Harry frowned, shaking his head. “ ‘M gonna go to my room.” He shuffled away, and Louis watched him go with a perplexed look. What was that?

When he looked back down at Hannah, she was staring at him with a knowing look on her face. “What?” He scoffed, putting away the make up. 

She just smiled at him and patted his arm. “Be patient with him, he’s gonna need support when he tries it for the first time.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” But she flitted away with a giggle. He would never understand women. 

When they finally made it to the club, Louis let out a deep breath. It smelled like sweat and the music was loud as fuck, but he could feel himself relaxing. They claimed a table in the far back big enough to fit their party of six. Louis was still miffed that Liam and Niall didn’t want to come - Liam had a date or whatever and Niall claimed he wanted to sleep for the entire weekend - but he refused to let that get him down. 

“What are we starting with?” Stan asked. 

“Shots, shots, shots!” Hannah cheered from where she was perched on Louis’ lap. 

“We just got here-”

“Shots, shots, shots!” Louis chanted with her. 

Stan looked up and sighed at the ceiling. It was his fault for being friends with them.

Clubbing with the boys (and Hannah) was fun, especially after they downed three shots each and something fruity that Louis was sure Harry would’ve loved. He found himself dancing with Hannah and Luke, loose-limbed from the alcohol and free from any worries. It was strange, being pressed up against other people and having their sweaty bodies press up against him, but he lost himself in anonymity. The light of the club danced across Louis’ eyelids and made him dizzy, so he closed his eyes and swayed his body to the beat. 

A hand pressed against his waist and he jumped at the touch. He whirled around in time to see an older man ogling him, his dark eyes sweeping across Louis’ body. It took him a few seconds for his eyes to focus, the earlier shots hitting him hard. The man was bigger than him with a square jaw and muscles that bulged under the light. He leaned close so that his lips pressed against Louis’ ears, making him shiver. “Aren’t you a pretty thing?”

Louis pulled away with a nervous laugh, swiping his hair off his forehead. “I’m a bloke, mate.” He had to yell over the music to get his point across. 

“Yeah, I know,” the other man smirked. “That’s the point.”

Oh?

_Oh!_

He laughed nervously again and looked around for his friends. Where the fuck did Hannah and Luke go? He just had to tell the, he had to admit, rather attractive man in front of him that he didn’t swing that way, he was here with his girlfriend actually. He opened his mouth but found himself tongue-tied. 

_C’mon Louis, you practiced this! I’m here with my girlfriend. I’m here with my girlfriend._

“Thank you,” he squeaked instead. Holy shit, he was a dumbass. 

The other man leaned in close again and asked huskily, “Wanna get out of here for a bit?”

Hetersosexuality.

Eight syllables, 16 letters. 

Synonyms: Louis Tomlinson.

Antonyms: whatever the fuck was happening here. 

Someone else pulled Louis into their arms and he squeaked out something that probably wasn’t English before realizing it was only Luke. Louis relaxed against him, because it was Luke and he was like a human teddy bear: warm and big. “What’s wrong, babe?” Luke asked, eyeing the stranger. “This guy giving you trouble?”

“Oh, I didn’t know you had a boyfriend, sorry about that,” the other man chuckled, slightly embarrassed, sparing Louis one last lingering glance before disappearing into the crowd. Louis watched him leave with shocked eyes, before turning to Luke. 

“What the _fuck_ just happened?” 

“You got hit on, mate.” He explained with a laugh, pulling Louis away from the dance floor and back to their table, where Ollie and a strange girl he had never met before were competing over how long it took for them to finish their pints. Where the fuck did the rest of his friends went? “And by a guy. Congrats.”

“Why’re you congratulating me?” He asked, dropping down on the opposite side of the booth from where the drinking competition was happening. He was dizzy but still pleasantly buzzed, barely blinking an eye when Ollie and the stranger started making out. Get it, ginger.

“Getting hit on by a guy is a compliment,” Luke explained, grinning down at him. His tanned skin was flushed and his dark hair flopped over his forehead. “And about time too, I was waiting for them to start appreciating your bum.”

“Stop talking about my bum,” Louis groaned, but he preened secretly. He didn’t think too hard about why he liked the fact that people appreciated his bum. 

Stan came back with a round of more pints, sliding them down on the table. He wasn’t the designated driver this time, so he was on a mission to get absolutely pissed. “What did I miss?”

“Louis got hit on by a bloke and he gay-panicked,” Luke explained, pressing a drunken kiss to Stan’s cheek before taking a pint and walking away to flirt with whoever gave him attention, which was almost everyone. He was an attractive son of a bitch. 

“I did not _gay-_ panicked!” Louis spluttered. “I straight-panicked.” 

Stan raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “Tommo, you know you can tell me anything-” 

Louis pushed away from Stan and his knowing look. “I’m gonna look for Hannah before she grinds on a married man and causes another divorce.” 

When the cab dropped him back home around a respectable 2 A.M., Louis was tipsy in the best way. It took him three minutes to unlock the door and he hummed under his breath as he stumbled inside his flat. He kicked off his shoes and locked the door behind him, anticipating the orgasmic feeling of falling into his bed before sleeping the rest of the day off. He was startled when he saw the light in the living room was on. 

Did someone break in? Did they steal his Playstation? Oh God, did they take the good cheese from the fridge?

But wait - Harry was home. Did he get kidnapped? Harry was too cute to be on milk cartons. They’d have to tell Simon and get Niall’s clone to cover for Harry until they grew a new one in Cowell’s test tube. “Hazza,” he called out as he crept into the living room. “You still alive?”

He heard someone swear and something clattered to the ground. He wasn’t all that surprised to see Harry on the floor in front of the couch, his knees pulled up to his chest, an empty bottle of wine next to him and something colorful stained on his hands. His face was red and he looked a mess. “What are you doing here?” He slurred, clearly drunk. 

“I live here?” Louis questioned. “What are you doing awake? Are you drunk?”

Harry blinked up at him, his green eyes glassy. “I know you are but what am I?” 

“An idiot.” 

“That’s mean,” Harry mumbled. He looked down at the phone cradled in his hands, the screen turned up bright. His nails looked like there was something on it, but he couldn’t see well with the way Harry was holding his cell. Harry frowned and started typing out a message. 

Louis dropped to the floor and leaned closer to see what he was doing. “Who’re you texting?”

Harry jerked the phone away, his cheeks turning a brighter red. “None of yer business. You should go to bed.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “I should be saying that to you. Did you drink that entire bottle by yourself?” 

Harry sighed and leaned his forehead against his knees, eyes firmly shut. “It was too loud. Like, annoying music kept playing in my head. Club music. I felt lonely.”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re on about, but maybe you should get some water-”

Harry’s phone buzzed but he didn’t make a move to check on it. Louis pulled it out of his clammy fingers and checked the screen. He was too tipsy to care about boundaries. 

Two new texts from _Ethan <3_. 

Louis scoffed. “It’s just your boy toy, then?”

Harry looked up and frowned at him. “Don’t call him that. God, why’re you such an asshole? You’re so nice and then you say the meanest things.”

“Just trying to stop you from dating dickheads,” Louis argued, pressing closer to Harry until he could feel the heat from his skin. “You don’t want to date dickheads, do you?”

Harry snorted. “You just don’t want me to date dudes.”

He wasn't wrong. Louis dropped Harry’s phone out of his hand and pressed his hands firmly against Harry’s ankles. The touch sent sparks of electricity down his spine and he wondered if the cab ride didn’t sober him up as much as he thought it did. Harry’s mouth popped open but he didn’t say anything, just watched Louis with wide eyes. 

“That’s not it,” he argued. “ ‘Sides, have you even kissed a bloke?”

“Yeah, have you?” He shot back. 

Louis’ eyes flitted to Harry’s mouth, which looked bitten raw pink. He unconsciously licked his lips. “Have you done more?” 

“I-” Harry moved back slightly. “No, I mean - I haven’t really done anything more with a guy - or a girl, really. I mean, other than a heated snog I haven’t-” 

Louis followed him back, his arms bracketing Harry’s tensed frame. “So you haven’t touched a cock before?”

A strangled noise erupted in Harry’s throat. “I haven’t, erm, touched another guy’s, uh-”

Louis leaned back and laughed sharply. “You can’t even say the word and you’re gonna let another guy fuck you?” 

Harry scowled and pushed him away. “Fuck you, I don’t try to shag every boy I like.”

“So you _do_ like him?” Louis wasn’t sure what he wanted to prove, but the burning feeling in his gut came back and he wanted to prod his finger in places that it shouldn’t be. That sounded wrong. “And you want to touch his cock?”

“I mean-” His eyes swept around as if looking for an escape. “I wouldn’t, uh, say no-”

“Then say cock.”

_“No.”_

Louis narrowed his eyes. There was no warning when he lunged at Harry, knocking him down so that his back was on the hard ground and Louis straddled his lap. Harry let out a gasp of surprise and struggled in his grip. “Say. Cock.”

“What are you, twelve?” Harry demanded, a giggle coating his words. He pushed at Louis’ chest and tried to roll away, but Louis gripped him by the sides and tickled the soft skin underneath his underarms. Harry let out a squeal of surprise. “No, stop, stop, that’s my tickle spot!”

Louis smirked, not letting off as Harry laughed wildly. Harry managed to roll Louis to the side so that he was now on top, but his moment of hesitation allowed Louis to pull him back down. They play-wrestled until sweat dripped down the back of Louis’ neck and both boys were winded. Louis had Harry on his back, his wrists held down above his head, his legs on either side of him. His hair was a floppy mess and his cheeks were bright red, and Louis’ gaze drifted to his lips. He was aware of how close they were, and how warm Harry was against him. He shifted a bit and Harry’s breath hitched in his throat as their crotch made contact. 

Harry swallowed and Louis watched his throat move with fascination. 

“L-Lou?” He stuttered, looking up at him with blown up pupils. His green eyes looked glassy, like morning dew, and it was his favorite thing in the world. 

He couldn’t blame what happened next on the alcohol.

“Tell me when to stop,” he murmured. 

Harry scrunched his nose in confusion. Ah, fuck it. 

Louis leaned down and kissed him. 

Harry made a grunt of surprise, but he didn’t push Louis away. His lips were soft, if slightly chapped, and it felt like drinking a cold glass of water after getting lost in a dessert. Or however that Ron Pope song went. He licked Harry’s bottom lip, sucking on it slightly, and Harry let out a soft sigh as he opened his mouth. Fireworks exploded underneath his skin and the world stopped spinning. A kiss had never made him feel this way before. 

Louis tightened his grip on Harry’s wrist and the younger boy let out a breathy moan. Heat pooled in his gut as he eagerly licked into Harrry’s mouth, tasting the red wine he drank and the pasta they had for dinner. There was also something uniquely Harry hidden underneath them that he had to find out what it was. He pressed closer into him to find out. 

Louis pulled away to let them breathe properly when his breath got strangled in his throat, both boys panting hard. Harry’s eyes were firmly pressed shut and Louis watched him through lidded eyes. God, Harry was so fucking pretty like this, laid out in front of him like his favorite dessert. 

Fuck. 

_Harry._

He was kissing Harry. 

Before he could panic, Harry let out a tiny whimper and any other thought disappeared from his head. Louis nipped his lips, peppering it with tiny kisses as he released Harry’s wrist and slid his hand down his arms to settle in Harry’s hair. Harry didn’t move his hand down and that thought shouldn’t have been so hot but it was. He moaned against his lips and Harry swallowed down the sound. 

Louis was getting dizzy, surrounded by Harry’s smell, his taste, his everything. He used one hand to cup Harry’s jaw, the other to tug his curls and expose his pretty, long neck. He left a trail of kisses from his lips to his jaw, pressing a soft one at the intersection where his jaw met his neck. Harry shivered. 

Louis leaned his mouth close to Harry’s ear and murmured, “Ethan ever made you feel like this? He ever kiss you like this?” 

Harry whimpered and bucked up into Louis, letting out a low whine when Louis moved his body away. “Asked you a question, love,” he murmured into Harry’s skin as his hands trailed down. He wanted to feel every inch of skin underneath his fingers, touch every part that Ethan hadn’t yet. 

“No,” Harry gasped as Louis sucked on Harry’s throat, alternating between biting and licking as he rubbed soothing circles with his thumb on his jaw. “Lou, can - _please_ -”

Louis moved down to suck another love bite on Harry’s collarbones, pausing only to smirk against his skin, “Use your words, baby.”

Harry finally moved his hands, only to wrap it around Louis’ waist and press him closer so that their chests touched. Louis could feel Harry’s heart thudding in his chest. Their legs tangled together but it wasn’t awkward. They just . . . they fit. “Don’t leave me,” Harry mumbled, his voice soft and fragile. 

Something awful turned in his stomach. “Harry. . .” He moved to pull away but Harry tightened his grip. 

“Please,” Harry whispered. 

Louis inhaled softly before pressing his face against Harry’s neck and breathing in his scent. “You’re going to hate me when you’re sober.”

“I could never hate you.”

And that was how he knew Harry was still drunk. 

He didn’t respond and let his eyes close. _I’m going to hate myself when I’m sober._

²⁸ 

  
When Louis was twelve, he fell in love for the first time. When he was thirteen, he was cornered by a group of boys in the locker room during gym. They only had five more minutes to change, but the other boys didn't seem to care as they jostled each other and snickered at whatever they thought was funny this week. Louis kept his eyes trained on his trainers; he didn't want them to think the wrong thing. 

One of the bigger boys crowded up in his space and sneered down at him. "Tommo, we're having a debate. Which girl is the hottest in our class?" 

Someone else snorted. "Like he'll know the answer. He doesn't even like girls." 

Louis' cheeks flamed and he glared at his frayed shoelaces. He didn't want to be here anymore. "I do like girls, none of them's my type, s'all." 

"Not even Angie?" Someone asked. "She got boobs over the summer. They’re so big, shit." 

"I bet he's a fairy," someone else chimed in. "He likes cock instead." 

"I'm not a fairy!" Louis spluttered. "I already like a girl." 

"Who is she?" 

"She doesn't go to school here," he mumbled. “You wouldn’t know her.” He hated all this attention on him. He wanted to disappear.

"Tyler is a fairy," someone else added, and the room erupted in a bunch of immature snickers. "I heard he likes to take it up the bum." 

Louis played with the hem of his shirt, eyes tearing up even though he wasn't the one getting laughed at. He could feel someone sitting next to him on the bench but he didn't dare look up. 

"Why do you care so much about Tyler putting things up his bum?" Stan interjected, throwing an arm around Louis' shoulder. "You wanna try it too?" 

"Ew, no! I'm not a fag!" 

Stan squeezed Louis' shoulder. Louis still didn't look up. "Nothing wrong with being a fag. It's his life, mate." 

No one had a chance to say anything before the door slammed open and the coach shouted at them for taking forever. Everyone hurried out of the locker room. Louis could feel Stan's eyes on him the entire time, but he ignored it. 

It wasn't until later that day when they were walking home after school together that Stan breached the subject. "You shouldn't pay attention to them, they're dickheads," he began. 

Louis kept his eyes trained in front of him. "Dunno what you're talking about."

"There's nothing wrong with liking dudes-" 

"I know there isn't," he interrupted, sending a glare at Stan. "That doesn't mean I'm a fairy. I'm in love with a girl." 

"She doesn't even know you exist," Stan pointed out. 

"Not yet," Louis muttered, and his best mate thankfully dropped it. 

He didn't think too much about it when Tyler slowly stopped changing in the boy’s locker room, or when he slowly stopped coming to class. He focused on the fact that one day the world would stop feeling so shitty, and he'll meet the one person who could make the awful feeling in his tummy go away. 

He just wanted to be happy. 

²⁸ 

  
Louis woke up in the early afternoon tangled up with Harry on the floor, and for a disorienting moment, he didn't question it. Harry's chest was warm and Louis pressed closer to it to leak in some of his heat. 

And then reality crashed in. 

His eyes flew open and he lurched away, falling off of Harry and onto the cold, hard floor. His breath smelled awful and he felt gross, not just physically but emotionally as well. Harry startled awake at Louis' movements, blinking deliriously at him before something clicked in his eyes. His clothes were wrinkled but thankfully on, and there were sleep marks on his cheeks. 

Fuck, he was so pretty. 

"Lou-?" Harry's voice was rough with sleep and hoarse. Louis didn't have enough sanity for this. 

He scrambled up, distancing himself from Harry and fuck - his lips were so pink and swollen. Did he do that? Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. 

"I have to, um, water my body," he choked out before running out, leaving a confused and hungover Harry by himself. Louis locked himself in his bedroom and tried not to hyperventilate, but his chest was tight and air refused to go in his lungs. 

He kissed Harry. No, he _made out_ with Harry. 

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. 

His tongue touched Harry’s tongue and he didn’t hate it. 

Did that make him a cheater?

Fuck, what did he _do_?

Louis pulled out his laptop and quickly logged in to Facetime. He impatiently waited for Hannah to pick up his call. When she finally connected, her round face was covered in a puke green face mask and her hair was covered in hair curlers. “You interrupted my Me Day” she groaned, wrapping her fluffy pink bathrobe tighter around her. “What is it, Lou?”

Louis cut right to the chase. “I can’t do this anymore. We need to break up.”

Hannah’s mouth popped open in surprise. “Wait, are you sure?”

He nodded, twisting his shirt. “I fucked up, Hannah.”

“What happened?” Her voice was sweet and comforting and Louis- Not for the first time, wished he had fallen for her. It would’ve been easy, they’d been friends since she bullied him into helping the drama club after school when footie wasn’t in season, and she was kind. She reminded him a bit of his mum. 

Louis glanced at his door, although he hadn’t heard anything from the living room since Louis bolted. He wondered if Harry was okay. He hated that the answer was probably no. “I kissed Harry,” he confessed. 

“Oh,” she exclaimed, “you two finally got together?” She didn’t sound surprised.

“What do you mean, ‘finally’? We’re just friends.” 

She cocked her head to the side. “But you kissed?”

“We were drunk. It wasn’t supposed to happen.”

She looked like she wanted to say something, but didn’t. That was what he liked the most about Hannah, she didn’t push too much when he didn’t want to talk about something. If she was here, she would’ve squeezed him so tight his ribs would break. “Are you okay?” 

He shrugged. “Feel like shit. I shouldn't have done that, he probably hates me now.” 

“Lou-”

“Please don’t tell Stan. He’s gonna rub it in my face.”

“He’s not going to-”

He gave her a pleading look. “Don’t tell him.” 

She hesitated, but ultimately agreed. 

When they hung up later, Louis was feeling marginally better. Which meant he still felt like the world’s shittiest person, but at least the weight on his shoulders wasn’t as heavy. He took a quick shower and brushed his teeth, ignoring his own reflection. When he finally emerged, he almost forgot why he was so upset. Until he saw Harry huddled in a blanket on the couch, staring at nothing. It didn’t look like he had moved at all.

Their eyes met and Louis’ heart crawled up his throat. 

“Are you mad at me?” Harry asked, his voice soft and hurt. 

“Why would I be mad at you?” Louis didn’t dare move closer. He was scared of what would happen if he got too close. 

“Because you left.”

_Don’t leave me._

Louis broke eye contact. “Do you remember what happened?” 

“We kissed.” He couldn’t discern any emotions in those words, whether Harry was upset or not. Louis hated it. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” Harry sounded confused. 

Louis ran a hand through his hair and looked everywhere but at Harry. “Because I took advantage of you when you were drunk and kissed you. I shouldn’t have let that happen.”

“But I kissed you back-”

“That doesn’t matter. I still shouldn’t have done it.”

“But-”

“Let’s just drop it, Harry.” His voice came out sharper than he meant it. He tried to soften his words. “It was a mistake that won’t happen again.”

Harry’s face fell, and he turned away before the guilt could eat him alive. 

“I’m going out, I’ll call you later.” He grabbed his keys and left before Harry could react. Was that a dick move? Yes. Did Louis scream in frustration at himself once he was in the safety of his car? Yes. 

He truly did fuck this up. 

And because the universe decided it hated him, his soulmate chose that moment to play “Picture To Burn” by Taylor Swift. Because listening to angry country break-up songs was exactly what he needed right now.

About five sad Taylor Swift songs and an acoustic version of “Torn” later, he made it to Zayn’s place. He didn’t bother knocking before barging in and blurting out, “Zayn, I fucked up.” 

Zayn didn’t bother turning around to greet him as he continued rummaging through his fridge. “Mate, you need to learn how to knock.”

Louis flopped on his couch and covered his eyes with the crook of his elbow, wishing the earth could swallow him whole. “Can I sleep on your couch for the next thirty years?” 

“No,” came the immediate reply. “What happened?”

“Hannah and I aren’t together,” he blurted out. That wasn’t what he meant to say, but he couldn’t put the words back inside him.

Something crashed on the ground and Louis jumped. “Fuck, my cereal!” Zayn swore. “Wait, let me just-” More noises, until Zayn finally emerged from the kitchen with a disgruntled face and a drenched shirt. “Are you okay? Do you need to cry on my shoulder or-”

“We were never together,” he interrupted. 

Zayn’s eyes widened. “ _What_?”

He let out a groan and tried to explain it while his thoughts were so tangled. “I asked her to be my fake girlfriend,” he confessed. 

“You asked her to be your _what_?”

“My fake girlfriend. Damn it, Zayn, pay attention!” 

Zayn slid down behind Louis and hesitantly petted him on the head. It was a nice gesture but Louis felt too much like shit to appreciate it. “Sorry, I’m, like, still hungover from yesterday and I just spilled cereal all over the floor. Today is not a good day for me. Just - why?”

Louis peeked out of his elbow at Zayn, his expression somber. “When you grow up in a small place, people talk. And when they see that you haven’t dated a single girl yet, they start saying bad things. So I asked Hannah to help, and she agreed because she’s nice and deserves so much better than being my fake girlfriend. Nobody knows except her and Stan, but keeping it a secret fucked with me and now everything's a mess.” 

Zayn’s eyebrows scrunched together, deep in thought. Letting it all out was supposed to be cathartic, but Louis was miserable. Thinking about what he did to Harry made him want to dig a hole in the ground and become the next Bilbo Baggins. “What happened?”

He shrugged and looked away. “I kissed Harry.”

“You fucking kissed-” Zayn slapped a hand over his mouth. “Tell me you didn’t.” Louis didn’t respond. “Louis, tell me you didn’t actually. . .” Silence. Zayn smacked him on the head. _“Louis!”_

“Ow!” He curled away from Zayn, although he supposed he deserved that. 

_“I told you not to hurt him-”_

“I didn’t mean to!” He defended himself. “It just kinda happened. We were drunk and I was stupid.” 

Zayn rubbed his face tiredly. He was right, this band was going to give him grey hair. “But you don’t just kiss people unless you’ve been wanting to kiss them for a while. Are you sure you’re not-”

“I don’t have feelings for Harry,” Louis interrupted. 

“Are you sure? Because it looks like you do-”

“I’m in love with someone else.”

Zayn paused. “Oh.”

Louis stared up at his ceiling, his chest burning with so many emotions he wanted to cry. “And she doesn't even know I exist. But I keep hurting people and I don’t know how to stop and, fuck. Zayn, what do I do?”

Zayn stroked Louis’ head but he didn’t say anything. He couldn’t blame him. There was nothing that could be said to fix this. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis isn't gay, he's harrysexual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeat'd we die like men.
> 
> sorry this update took so long, i had frequent debilitating migraines, probably due to either my severe dehydration or my anemia or even my boderline ed. im better now tho, cuz my body realized it can't bully me into being healthy.

_"i'm only honest when it rains_  
 _an open book with a torn out page_  
 _and my ink's run out_  
 _i want to love you, but i don't know how"_  
\- Neptune, Sleeping At Last

²⁸ 

  
Harry was mad at him, which was understandable. 

Louis expected nothing less than the full silent treatment, maybe with some books thrown at his head in a fit of anger. He deserved it really, but he didn’t expect it to hurt so much. It wasn’t like when Louis put pink hair dye in Ollie’s shampoo bottle and had to sleep with one eye open for a month in fear of the ginger. It was a startling thought, but Louis was starting to realize that his relationship with Harry was nothing like his friends back home. Maybe it was because they lived together, so he had to see the younger boy constantly, or maybe it was because Harry himself was special. Louis didn’t know, and it frustrated him. He hated not knowing.

About two weeks after The Kiss™, Harry hadn’t spoken a word to him other than lukewarm greetings and mumbled goodnights. He continued cooking them breakfast and ignored Louis’ proposition to do the washing, but they felt more like roommates than friends. And Louis hated it. He’d rather have Harry screaming at him than ignore his existence. 

So Louis did what he always did when he screwed up. He called his mum. 

“What did he say to you?” 

“Nothing, mum, that’s the problem,” he complained, the phone held between his shoulder and his ear as he rummaged through the fridge. Harry was out with some friends - and Ethan, probably, fuck that guy - so he had to fend for himself when it came to dinner. There was some cold spaghetti from yesterday, but that reminded him of the awkward silence as they ate. He frowned and closed the fridge. 

“What did you do to have him stop talking to you?” She asked, her voice tinged with disappointment. 

He moved the phone to his other shoulder while grabbing some bread and a jar of Nutella. “It’s not that important, I just need to know how to fix it. I hate when he’s mad at me.”

She hummed, and in the background he could hear his sisters fighting over something dumb, like the remote for their telly or something. A sharp pang of homesickness hit him. He’d always been close to his family, but while he knew he couldn’t live with his mum until he was fat and old, he didn’t expect to be this far away from them so soon. He could always plan a trip back to Donny, but with how wishy-washy his relationship with Harry currently was, and their album being released so soon, and every complicated thing that came with it, he’d have to put that plan on the back burner. He would really like his mum’s hugs right about now. 

“Have you considered that maybe he’s just hurt?” His mum asked, breaking him out of his thoughts. “I don’t know what you did, but you can be a bit-”

“Of a twat?” He supplied. 

She huffed. “I was going to say, ‘a bit too much’, but that works. Watch your language, by the way, you’re still my little boobear.”

Louis laughed as he spread the chocolate on his bread slices before dropping the knife in the sink. He would clean everything up later. Maybe. “Sorry, mum.”

His mum continued. “You’ll have to do something to show that you still - _Daisy, don’t touch that!_ \- care about him. The boy adores you, he might just need the reminder.” 

He frowned at the words. Why did everyone keep saying that? Zayn, his mum, strangers on Twitter that assumed they knew him better than he knew himself. He could see where they were coming from: Harry had such a bright personality that he adored everything, finding silver linings in even the darkest clouds, but what did that have to do with anything? “Harry adores you,” thanks, that didn’t help him solve his problems. 

“So what do I do?” He asked, settling down on the couch. If Louis had been watching _Peppa Pig_ reruns because he was upset over Harry having fun with his friends (and Ethan) without him, no one would ever know. 

“I think that’s for you to figure out. You do know him best.”

Did he? 

Nowadays, it felt like he didn’t know anything at all. 

He and his mum chatted for a little while before she had to go, and then Louis was alone again. He fidgeted with his half-eaten sandwich, unsure what to do with himself when he was alone. He supposed that was why he needed to fix things with Harry soon. Being alone made him feel. . .weird. Like he lost a part of himself and couldn’t get it back. 

At least his soulmate was in a good mood. She had been playing upbeat pop music all evening, and it made him smile even as she listened to “Teenage Dream” for the third time. He wondered what she was doing, if she was laying on her bed doing homework. Or maybe she was hanging out with her friends, going out for drinks or to an arcade, being normal and not having to worry about strangers taking her pictures everywhere she went. He wondered what it would be like if they met one day as two ordinary strangers, wondered how it would feel like to hold her hand for the first time and know, with utmost certainty, that she was the one. 

And then he thought about Harry and his thoughts fell apart from there. 

Harry came back just as Louis finished moving all the furniture five centimeters to the left and was about to hide all the spoons. Their eyes met over the kitchen island and tension rippled over his skin. Louis didn’t like the uncertain ground they were standing on, both hesitant to make a move in case the floor crumbled beneath them. 

Harry shuffled on his feet, but he didn’t immediately move to get away from Louis. Progress. 

“Hi,” Louis said, unsure. 

“Hi.”

“Um, where did you go?” Every word out of his mouth felt like glass. They’ve never been this awkward around each other, not even when they first met on X Factor. Everything had been easier back then, although he didn’t know why exactly. They clicked together from the start, and Louis desperately wished he could have that easy companionship back. He missed Harry. 

Harry’s eyes flickered over to him. They flashed bright green for a second, and it left Louis breathless. “Out. Went karaoking with some friends.” 

Louis suppressed a smile at the thought of Harry singing along to Katy Perry or some other pop song, slightly tipsy and pink-cheeked. It was adorable, and he wished he could have gone too. “That’s nice.” And because he had to ruin things, he blurted out, “Um, was Ethan there too?”

Harry rolled his eyes, a dissatisfied frown settling itself on his face. “Goodnight, Louis.” He walked away without a second glance. 

Louis’ shoulders dropped. He hated this. 

²⁸ 

  
A few days after an interview with a small radio station to promote _Up All Night_ , Louis contemplated calling Stan. But then he remembered that Stan didn’t know just how badly Louis fucked up, and as long as he didn’t admit that he kissed Harry and liked it (just a little), he wouldn’t have to admit that time he- 

Nope, he wasn’t going to think about that. Time to repress that memory. Control, alt, delete, and shit.

He still hadn’t figured out a way to get Harry to forgive him. Zayn suggested telling him the truth, but Zayn slept with a picture of Liam under his pillow, so forgive him for not taking his advice. 

The problem was, it was starting to affect the band as well. Not outwardly, not enough that other people noticed, but enough that there was a weird tension in the air during interviews. Niall’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, and Liam eyed the two of them enough times that the barest sprinkling of guilt settled on Louis’ skin. The longer Harry went without acknowledging Louis’ existence, without mindlessly touching him as he answered questions, or whispered in his ear as he thought of something funny, or even looked at him with sparkling eyes, the more tense the band became. 

It was like a machine. When one cog no longer worked, everything fell apart. If Louis and Harry stopped getting along, how long until the rest of the band followed suit? God, Louis didn’t want to fuck this up for all of them. 

Liam had pulled him aside after that particular interview and asked if something had happened. It was hard, keeping secrets from him when he looked at Louis with those puppy dog eyes, but Louis didn’t want to pull everyone into the mess he created. He wanted to fix things on his own and have everything go back to normal. 

So Louis lied and told Liam not to worry about it, it was just some roommate rough patch thing they were going through. He mumbled something about a spat over dirty laundry and unwashed dishes. Liam didn’t look like he believed Louis, but thankfully let it drop. Thank God Liam had the attention span of a dehydrated goldfish, because Louis managed to distract him the rest of the day with Temple Run on his phone. 

Niall was . . . another matter altogether. He looked curious as Harry slipped away from them without a single word, but didn’t push for answers. Louis was almost certain Niall knew something, but he was too much of a coward to ask if Harry had told him. It would have been dumb of him to get upset because Louis told Zayn, and they never agreed to keep it a secret. In fact, they hadn’t talked much about what had happened, hadn’t talked at all, really. 

Harry was out shopping with Liam when Louis decided to call Gemma. He hadn’t had much contact with Harry’s sister other than the monthly texts to update her on the fact that he was, in fact, still alive, but he figured he had nothing to lose. He had finished switching the containers for the salt and sugar - Harry hadn’t commented on the moved furniture or missing spoons yet - when she picked up. 

“ ‘Ello?”

“Hi, Gemma! I was wondering if you could help me-”

“No,” was her immediate reply. 

He paused, not expecting that frigid reaction. He didn’t think he had done anything to get on her bad side, although he wouldn’t be surprised if he had. “You didn’t let me finish.”

“I don’t need to, I know it has something to do with Harry.” Although her voice was filled with static, there was enough warning in it to make Louis shiver. He’d never been afraid of a girl before, but there always was a first time for everything. “What did you do to my baby brother?”

He tried to swallow the lump stuck in throat but all it managed to do was lodge itself in his chest. “I - I just-” He stammered. “I might have done an oopsie?”

“Done an oopsie?” Her voice pitched up as if she wasn’t sure whether to laugh or yell. “Kissing Harry and then throwing him away like a used towel is an ‘oopsie?’”

“It wasn’t like that,” Louis argued, nervously running his hand through his hair. “I didn’t throw him - how do you even know about the kiss?” 

“Harry told me, obviously.”

“Obviously,” he repeated, eyebrows raising in disbelief. “Harry talks to you about me?” 

There was a weighted pause, and Louis shifted on the balls of his feet. He could hear the echoes of his heartbeat in the empty living room, like church bells signalling his upcoming breakdown over Harry telling his sister - _and Anne, probably, oh God_ \- that they had kissed. He tried to act like he didn’t care at all, but their impressions of him mattered a lot. Louis wanted to be liked by Harry’s family. 

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Gemma finally said, voice cold, “he tells me everything. I think I know more about what happens in your band meetings with Simon Cowell than I’m legally supposed to.” 

Harry told Gemma everything. His head swam with the possible information she might have had. “Does. . .does that mean he talks about Ethan too?”

Gemma let out a bark of laughter. Louis winced at the noise. “Wow, Harry was right. You’re fucking obsessed.” 

Louis’ face burned but he couldn’t deny it. He didn’t know what was wrong with him, why he couldn’t just be normal. It was like, if he wasn’t thinking about his soulmate, he was thinking about Harry. And if he wasn’t thinking about Harry, he was thinking about Earstain, although he hadn’t seen him since the party. Harry took care not to talk about him when Louis was around, only briefly mentioning that he was going out with “friends”, although he was probably going on dates with the twat. Louis was self-aware enough to know that he was being a jealous idiot, but he really didn’t like the other boy. He wanted to be the most important boy in Harry's life, more important than Ethan, more important than any future Ethans that thought they could sweep Harry off his feet with cool facial hair. Zayn called him an idiot, but Zayn didn’t eat the crusts on his pizzas so Louis didn’t pay much mind to his words. 

“Ugh, I’m sorry, it just comes out of me.” Louis paced the house, unsure what to do with all this extra energy. He wished Harry was here, even if he refused to talk to Louis, because seeing the younger boy was enough to calm him down. He chewed on the nail of his thumb, which had already suffered from Louis’ anxious nail biting earlier. “I don’t even know what it is, I’m just - it’s all confusing.”

“What exactly do you want from Harry?” Gemma asked. 

That was the million dollar question, wasn’t it? What exactly did he want to come out of this? It would be easier for them to take time away from each other. Simon had mentioned before that they were getting too close. Louis was just confused and Harry was there, so all the weird feelings he had were easy to pile up and disguise themselves as something it wasn’t. Something that wasn’t platonic. It wasn’t like he liked Harry. Not in that way, at least. He was just lonely and needed his soulmate and Harry was there. That was all. 

Even he couldn’t believe those half-hearted excuses. 

“I just want to make him happy,” he finally supplied, trying to be honest although everything was still confusing. “And I hurt him, and I never want to do that again. But I don’t know how to make him forgive me.” 

“Jesus,” Gemma muttered under her breath. “I don’t want to get involved in my baby brother’s drama, this is so dumb.” She sighed loudly as Louis wandered into Harry’s room, wondering if he could get away with hiding all of his socks. “Okay, fine, whatever. We both want Harry to be happy, so I’ll help, but if I hear that you made him sad again, I’m cutting off your dick.”

“That’s fair,” he said, his eyes trailing across the photographs Harry had taped on his wall. There were candids of him and his family, a few of some mates he didn’t recognize, and a couple of the band. His eye caught on one photo that looked like it had been put up and taken down multiple times. It had a small rip on the side and he touched it briefly with the tip of his thumb. He recognized himself and Harry, younger although they didn’t look much like it, their faces pressed together so that their cheeks were squished and crinkles appeared next to their eyes. He recognized the X Factor bathrooms behind them and his heart fluttered at the thought that Harry had printed out the picture they took together and hung it up. Louis had it admittedly as his lock screen for a brief amount of time, unsure if he would ever see the cute boy from the bathroom that liked to piss on people again but finding comfort in their picture. He took it off when Stan noticed and asked who the boy was, and Louis didn’t have a good enough explanation that didn’t make Stan pull out the ‘ _Love is Lov_ e’ powerpoint again. 

Louis tuned back into Gemma’s voice a half-second too late. “. . .isn’t really mad at you, but you still should - are you even listening to me?” 

“Uh, yeah, sorry,” he mumbled, flustered as he stepped back from the pictures. “Um, what do you usually do when you and Harry have fights?”

“Harry and I don’t have fights,” she sighed. “We argue a bit yeah, but we don’t fight. It’s hard enough for him with everything going on that I try to support him as much as possible. But I suppose sometimes when things get icy, I give him a makeover and he thaws.”

Louis frowned. “Give him a makeover? Like, buy him new clothes or summat?” 

“No, I mean, like, I put on some -” She cut herself off with a swear. “He didn’t tell you, did he? Shit.”

“Wait, tell me what?” 

She groaned. “It would be a shitty big sister thing for me to tell you. You’ll just have to wait until he tells you himself.”

Louis frowned. He thought Harry shared everything with him, thought they were past keeping secrets. Did that mean he didn’t trust Louis? He hated this feeling, he hated being so insecure in his friendship with Harry. Every one of his bad traits seemed to amplify whenever Harry was around, but he couldn’t understand why. He wished everything was easy again, like when they were together on X Factor. They were LouisandHarry then without any complications. 

“What should I do, then?”

“He tries to act mature but he’s actually really needy,” Gemma supplied, sounding bored. “He likes being taken care of, pampered, stuff like that, and I guess you like taking care of him? I dunno, guess it works out, really. Are you sure you’re straight?”

Louis was so focused on coming up with ways to take care of Harry that he almost didn’t notice the abrupt change in conversation. “W-what?”

“I mean, Harry told me you have a girlfriend which is cool, I guess, but you did kiss him. Tipsy or not, you kissed him.”

“That’s - can’t two guys kiss without it being gay?” 

“Is that a trick question?”

“No! And, like, what does my sexuality have anything to do with Harry?”

“Are you dumb? I didn’t think so, but Harry told me you didn’t pass your A-Levels.”

“Does Harry tell you everything?”

“He never shuts up about his favorite things."

So focused on arguing with Gemma, Louis didn’t notice the front door opening or footsteps walking towards him. It was only when Harry’s bedroom door opened did Louis look up and their eyes met. Harry stood in his doorway, brows furrowed and a few bags hanging loosely on his wrists, but Louis couldn't stray his gaze away from the green expanse of his eyes. They said eyes were the windows to the soul, but Harry had his blinds firmly shut. It only made him want to peek inside even more.

He snapped out of his trance. "Fuck, Harry!" He hung up on Gemma without a word and shoved his phone in his pocket, too frazzled to pretend to act normal. "What, uh, what are you doing here?" 

"This is my room?" He answered hesitantly, eyes flickering around in suspicion. "What are _you_ doing here?" 

Louis laughed, nerves drying his throat. "I was, um, going to steal your socks?" 

Harry's frown deepened but he didn't necessarily look surprised. Louis had done weirder things. "Who were you talking to?" 

Sweat started beading his forehead. This felt too much like an interrogation scene in a James Bond movie for him to be comfortable. "I, uh, was just talking to Payno. He cut his big toe and needed my emotional support." 

"But I was just with Liam? We went shopping together, he didn’t look like he was hurt." 

Fuck. Louis had never claimed to be a good liar. "Yeah, I mean I was talking to his uncle. Yeah, Uncle Payno isn't doing so well, so. . ." 

"Why do you have Liam's uncle's phone number?" 

"The fuck is this, Twenty-One Questions?" Louis snapped. "Can you not question everything I do for once?" 

Harry winced and looked away, remorse flickering over his face. "Sorry," he mumbled. 

Guilt stabbed him in the heart. Louis was such a dick. "No, fuck, wait," he stumbled over to Harry, who took a step back at his approach. Louis stopped, feeling hurt. Harry wouldn't even touch him anymore. "I'm sorry, I'm being tit. I'm just a little stressed, but I shouldn't be taking it out on you." 

Harry shrugged, his face unreadable. "S'fine, I guess." 

"No, it's not," he sighed. "I'm sorry. You deserve a better flatmate. I suck." 

Harry glanced at him, but didn't say anything at first. He set his bags on his bed and sat next to them, crossing his legs at the ankle. He looked so small, despite being so big, and Louis wanted to wrap him in a hug until he was okay. He wasn't, really, because there were subtle dark shadows under his eyes, which were vacant more times than not, deep in thought. This thing between them was affecting him as well, the only difference was that Harry was better at pretending he was fine. 

"I don't want another flatmate," Harry mumbled. "I never did." 

"I thought I was your last choice." 

"I lied," Harry smiled at his hands.

The tension in Louis’ shoulders loosened at the admission, and he leaned back against Harry’s desk. A mistake, of course, because he knocked into a few of the items sitting patiently on the edge, and they tumbled to the ground. He winced and dropped to his knees, picking up pens and half-finished bottles of flavored chapstick, throwing apologies at Harry, who was watching him with an amused look on his face. There was a spiral bound notebook hidden underneath the desk and Louis pulled it out curiously. “What’s this?”

It looked old yet well-taken care of. He rubbed his thumb against the cover slowly while looking up at Harry, whose eyes widened once they recognized what Louis was holding. Harry had never been the most athletic person in the world, born with two left feet that caused him to trip over air, but in a feat of impressive athleticism, he jumped off the bed and lunged for the journal, snatching it out of Louis’ hands and then tumbling into a roll. Louis would be impressed if he wasn’t flabbergasted. 

Harry clutched it to his chest and looked everywhere but at Louis. “Um-”

“So, I’m guessing that’s off limits?” He laughed nervously, unsure where all this sudden tension came from when they were fine moments ago. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen Harry carry the journal around, moreso on X-Factor than nowadays, scribbling something down now and again. “S’like your diary or summat?”

Harry chewed on his bottom lip. “Um, something like that. Just, songs and stuff.”

Now Louis was curious. “What, like song lyrics?”

Harry looked like he’d rather be anywhere but here. “Kind of?”

“Could I see them sometimes? No need to get embarrassed, I’m sure they’re nice.”

He laughed nervously. “No, they’re not really. . .uh. . .for other people to - I mean, it’s for one person, really-”

Louis smiled even as his heart twinged uncomfortably. “Aw, who’re you writing songs for?” _Please don’t say Ethan._

His face turned beet red. “That’s, uh, not really what it’s for. I mean, it’s their, uh-” 

“It’s okay,” he interrupted. “You don’t have to tell me who it is.” Louis didn’t know if his jealousy could take it.

Harry frowned, but he didn’t say anything. He got off the ground and hesitantly stepped towards Louis, placing the notebook back on the desk. They were only a step away from each other but it was the closest they’ve been since the Kiss™ , and Louis’ eyes inevitably found themselves traveling down the length of Harry's face to the cupid bow on his lips. He forced himself to look away and focus on the photos taped to the wall. 

“I didn’t think you would’ve kept it,” he said, breaking the subtle uncomfortable silence surrounding them. He flicked the photo of the two of them gently. 

Harry’s eyes glanced at it, and his lips twitched minutely. “I wanted to keep a picture of my first fan.”

Louis bit his lips to keep his smile from breaking free. “I still have that autograph you signed me,” he admitted. “I keep it in my wallet.”

He looked up in equal parts surprise and glee. “Really?”

“ ‘Course, Rockstar,” he said, knocking into Harry’s shoulder slightly. “You’re special to me.” 

Harry’s smile dimmed. “But we’re just friends, right?”

“What?”

He shook his head and took half a step back, his eyes trained on the picture. “Do you ever wonder what would’ve happened if we both didn’t make it through? Like, if Simon never called us back?”

Louis looked at him, but he couldn’t figure out what Harry was thinking. He lifted one hand to tug gently at Harry’s curls, watching with satisfaction as Harry’s eyes flickered to meet his. He thought, briefly, back to when they were standing on that stage, the five of them, tears drying on their cheeks and heartbreak clawing up their throats until it was raw and bleeding. He thought about standing next to Harry, focusing on his warmth as Simon Cowell peered down at them from the judge’s table, thousands of eyes on them as if they were animals at a zoo. He remembered words, floating through his brain even after the announcement was made, and then he remembered Harry. Sweet Harry, only sixteen and full of so much light that the thought of seeing it dimmed broke his heart. And then he remembered jumping into Harry’s arms for the first time, and everything that came after melted away. 

Louis swallowed but forced himself to hold eye contact. “It doesn’t matter, I still would’ve found you.”

The sentence shifted something in their relationship, something Louis couldn’t put a name to. He exhaled slowly. 

Harry let out a startled laugh. He pushed a hand through his hair, a helpless expression on his face. “You’re making this so hard for me.” His voice shook, but Louis wasn’t sure if it was in pain or amusement. “How the fuck am I supposed to get over-” He cut off with another laugh.

Louis was so, so lost. “I’m so, so lost right now.”

“I’m going to go make dinner,” Harry said, a smile still playing on his lips. He left the room without another word but left the door open wide, a clear invitation to leave his private space. 

Louis thought back to their relationship shifting, the flecks in Harry’s eyes, the thrumming in his blood now that he was gone. 

“Oh,” he realized. 

²⁸ 

  
Louis Tomlinson wasn’t gay. 

Or at least, he hoped he wasn't. 

Because Louis wanted to be happy, and he couldn't be happy if he was holding hands with a boy instead of his soulmate, right? Because she was waiting for him, whoever this stranger was, and she would make him happy. 

But no matter how far Louis reached for the mystery girl in front of him, he always looked back to search for Harry. There was something wrong with him. 

²⁸ 

  
Things got better after that, but Louis was adamant that he earned Harry's forgiveness. He took Gemma's advice to heart and looked for ways to take care of him. It wasn't a difficult task, considering Louis had been taking care of Harry in small ways from the start. But he was more conscious of it now, more aware of the pleased grin on Harry's face when Louis put his hand on the small of his back when they were herded into interviews or photoshoots, the softening of his mouth when Louis fixed his hair before they set out for the day. Harry liked being taken care of and Louis liked taking care of people. They worked. 

But this time Louis wanted it to _mean_ something. 

So, he asked his mum for a simple recipe. Something he wouldn't fuck up considering he burnt his cereal last week. He set it up with Zayn, because he needed his partner in crime to execute it perfectly. While Louis labored in the kitchen, double-checking the recipe time and time again, Zayn was supposed to invite Harry out and kill time. It took hours longer than it probably was supposed to and Louis cried sometime in the middle, while Zayn sent him periodic updates of Harry and unnecessary pictures of Liam that he had taken during a previous interview. What a creep.

Around 6 in the evening, Louis placed the chicken in the preheated oven and sent a quick thanks to whoever was listening upstsirs for not burning down the kitchen. He quickly cleaned everything up before sending Zayn a text. He had about twenty minutes or so before Harry came back, and his shirt currently had mozzarella stains on them. 

He took a quick shower and changed into a nice pair of red skinnies and a striped top before he set up the table. The door clicked open by the time Louis pulled out the red wine from the fridge and he breathed a sigh of relief that he managed to finish on time.

"Lou. . .?" Harry's voice floated towards him. He looked curious as he stepped further into the flat, a beanie firmly placed on his curls and his coat half-shrugged off. His green eyes flickered from Louis nervously standing by the kitchen counter with the wine clutched in his fingers to their dining table set up with a new white tablecloth and their good china, the kind they were afraid to use in fear of breaking it. 

"Harry, you're back," he breathed out. "Hi."

Harry blinked slowly. "Hi? What's all this?" 

"I made dinner," he announced, puffing his chest out a bit. "For the two of us." 

"You made . . . dinner?" He sounded dubious, which was fair. Louis was an awful cook. "With the stove?" 

"Don't sound so bloody excited," he muttered. Louis set the wine down and helped Harry out of his coat, tossing it on the couch to worry about later. He couldn't stop himself from brushing Harry's curls out of his face and tugging playfully at a strand. Harry's eyes grew glassy and he bit his lip, hard. He smelled like autumn and spices. 

Louis took a step back and cleared his throat. "Take a seat, the chicken's pretty much done now." He pulled out a chair and watched as a dazed Harry sat down, pouring him a glass of wine afterwards. 

"What's the occasion?" Harry asked, voice shaky. 

He paused, considering his words. "I just want to take care of you." 

Harry's eyes widened, but Louis turned away before he could say anything. He pulled the chicken out of the oven and set it on the table, along with the mashed potatoes he had a slight mental breakdown while making. 

"Bon appétit," he said proudly. 

Harry looked up from the food to Louis, his eyes catching the light. "Thank you." 

Louis sat down across from him and watched as he served himself. He wasn't Gordon Ramsay by any means, but his chicken wasn't pink and the parma ham wasn't charred, so he figured it wasn't awful. He served himself but didn't pick up his fork yet. 

Harry's eyebrows rose as he took a bite. 

"How is it?" Louis asked. 

He chewed slowly. "Wow, this meal really is. . .cooked. The potatoes sure are textured. It definitely has a taste."

Louis' smile dropped. "You hate it?" 

"I never said that-" 

"Me first proper meal and it's awful," he bemoaned, dropping his head in his hands. "I thought I followed the recipe-"

Harry dropped his fork and the sharp sound cut through the air. "What is this?" 

Louis' head popped up. "Uh, chicken wrapped in parma ham, with a side of homemade mash-" 

"No," Harry interrupted. "I mean, what are we doing?" 

"Having dinner?" 

"I mean, _why_?" He stressed, teeth gritted. "Why all of this? This feels an awful lot like a date but you're not-" He stopped himself with a groan. "You're so confusing." 

He swallowed. Louis couldn't help it, he himself was confused by his own actions. But he was afraid of finding out the truth if he dug too deep and thought too hard about why he did what he did. Ignorance was bliss, after all. "Sorry, I know-"

"Do you really? Because one minute you're kissing me and the next, the thought of touching me makes you look sick. No matter what I do, I lose every time." 

"It's not a game, no one should be losing-" 

"Why do I keep getting played, then?" He rubbed his face with the palm of his hands, a defeated scowl on his face. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

“I’m sorry,” Louis murmured. “I should never have kissed you, all this wouldn’t have happened and you wouldn’t hate me right now.” _And I wouldn’t have all these confusing feelings for you._

Harry frowned. “I don’t hate you. I could never hate you. I’m not even mad that you kissed me, I’m just upset because you said it was a mistake. Like the thought of liking me was so gross.”

“What, no, that’s not-” He scrambled up and tried to catch Harry’s gaze, filled with the need to get him to understand. Harry was the youngest of the band, and he often felt the pressure of wanting others to like him more so than the other boys. Louis knew this, he knew how insecure Harry got, and yet he was still making things worse. “I didn’t hate kissing you, that’s the problem. And I’m not - it’s just that-”

“You’re straight,” Harry said, wryly, “right.” He sighed and picked at his food. Looking at it now, maybe the chicken was a bit too dark. “Maybe I’m just overreacting, or something. I dunno, it’s not like anything could have happened. You have a girlfriend and-”

“Hannah and I broke up,” Louis blurted out. It occurred to him a bit late that he probably shouldn’t have announced this while trying to convince Harry to forgive, and he probably should’ve mentioned this before. In fact, Louis should probably tell him that he and Hannah were never actually together, like Zayn recommended. He wasn’t going to, but he probably should’ve. 

Harry looked up at him. Louis couldn’t read the look on his face. “Oh. Did I - was it because of me?” 

“No, of course not!” Louis swallowed harshly and moved over to Harry’s side, clenching his fists so he didn’t do anything stupid, like touch his hair. He crouched down and caught his serious gaze. “It wasn’t because of you, it was because of me. It wouldn’t have been fair to her after everything that had happened.” 

Harry frowned, his eyes searching Louis’ face. They pinned him in place, as if he was a butterfly held up for scrutiny, about to have his wings cut off for aesthetic pleasure. Louis tried not to squirm much, because Harry’s gaze was intense and borderline intimidating, especially when he didn’t know what the younger boy was thinking. Finally, Harry broke eye contact. “I don’t want to lose you. You’re my best friend.” 

“You’re my best friend too,” he replied. “My favorite person in the world.” 

“More than Stan?” 

Louis laughed a little. “Yes, I like you more than Stan.” 

Harry’s lips twitched. “Promise me that you won’t push me away? No matter what?”

“I promise.” 

Harry’s face relaxed, and he threw Louis a small smile that settled something in him. He didn’t realize how much he missed Harry’s gentle attention until he didn’t have it anymore, and he never wanted to lose it again. He brushed his knuckle gently across Harry’s cheek, just because he could, and the younger boy leaned into the touch. Harry's skin was soft and warm, and his heart began to race at just how much he cared for Harry. _I want to take care of you_ , he thought. _I always want to take care of you._

Louis pulled away and chuckled when Harry pouted at the loss. “I have something for you.” 

Harry made a face. “Is it more home cooked food?” 

“Don’t tell me you hated it,” Louis groaned. “I worked hard on it, even used measuring cups and stuff.”

He shrugged, a toothy grin exposing his amusement. “S’alright. Could’ve been worse.” 

Louis just chuckled and reached for the shopping bag he had hidden in the kitchen. He set it on Harry’s lap and watched with anticipation as Harry frowned. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I don’t have to do anything,” Louis snorted. “I wanted to.”

“Because you like taking care of me?” Harry questioned, echoing Louis’ earlier words. 

“Yes,” he said simply. 

Harry glanced up. “Don’t stop.”

“I won’t.” 

The smile on Harry’s face when he pulled out the leatherbound notebook Louis had bought a few days ago at a pretentious indie shop was worth everything in the world. He smoothed the cover down and slid his fingers against the edges of the pages. “You got me a journal?”

“Your other one was getting old. Thought you might like a new one to write your songs in.” 

“Thank you,” Harry smiled. He pulled Louis into a tight hug and things felt okay again. 

²⁸ ⃤

  
Of course, it was only a matter of time before everything went to shit again. Louis was somewhat impressed that it took this long before everything fell apart and his carefully planned house of lies tumbled to the ground. Their album, _Up All Night,_ had just gotten released and Louis had been pleasantly surprised at how well it was doing. Of course, it should’ve been obvious, considering “What Makes You Beautiful” smashed the British charts, that it would do well. It was a cheesy pop song but even he could appreciate the simplicity of the lyrics and the catchy tune. He heard it on the radio constantly and pride was an understatement. They were signed by Columbia and had a tour scheduled that following December. It was all so overwhelming that Louis was floating on air for a few weeks. It seemed like a dream come true, really. 

They were at a local radio station, being interviewed by a lovely woman who seemed genuinely excited to have them. He sat with Liam on one side, Niall on the other, fiddling with the headphones they were given while she asked them questions about what it was like to work on their first album and what they hoped for in the future. Louis let Liam and Harry handle the questions, filled with too much manic energy to properly pay attention. He knocked his feet into Liam’s every time the other boy had to answer a question, messing him up a few times to the amusement of the rest of the band; he drew stick figures on Niall’s arm with a pen he stole from their dressing room; and he contemplated how much trouble he would be in if he crawled under the table and tied Zayn’s laces together. 

Wow, he really was annoying. 

“So, tell me about your fans,” the interviewer asked, pulling Louis away from his thoughts. “It must be amazing to have so many of them after X-Factor.” 

Harry hummed into his mic. “They’re very nice. They turn in a circular motion and keep the room very cool.”

Everyone stared at Harry. Niall started laughing. A slow smile crawled on Louis’ face.

“The - the _human_ fans, Harry,” Liam explained, pinching the bridge of his nose as if to ward off a headache. “The ones who bought the album.”

Harry’s face turned pink. “Oh! Yeah, they’re pretty nice too.”

Liam jumped in to salvage whatever it was Harry was on about, but Louis focused entirely on the curly-haired boy. Harry was still embarrassed, but he brushed it off the way he brushed everything off: with a wide smile that made his dimples pop. 

“Yeah, the fans are incredible,” Niall added, and Louis couldn’t help but think how incredible Harry himself was. 

“That’s nice.” The interviewer smiled at them, and continued on to the next question. “The fans actually sent in a few questions for me to ask you boys, if that’s alright. The first one is from McKenna, who's from Leeds. She was wondering if you guys would ever get a song lyric of yours tattooed on you.”

Zayn perked up immediately. He typically wasn't one to speak much in interviews, content enough to let the others answer questions as he observed, but he enjoyed a good tattoo question. “I definitely would,” he said, talking into Harry’s mic although they all were given one. “I would love tattoos, they’re sick.” 

“I don’t know about a song lyric of ours,” Liam added, rubbing his chin in contemplation. “I’d probably get ‘you’re insecure’ tattooed on me as a joke. Although they would hurt, wouldn’t they?” 

“That’s the fun part,” Harry argued, and Louis mentally added ‘pain kink’ on the list of things he and Harry needed to have a conversation about. “I love tattoos. I want to get a tattoo one day.”

“That’s nice,” the interviewer said. She had mentioned her name earlier, but Louis hadn’t paid much attention. “What about the rest of you?”

“I don’t know if tattoos would look good on me,” Niall laughed. “I bruise too easily.” 

Louis shrugged when she turned to him. “I dunno, tattoos are nice on other people, but I wouldn’t really want one meself.”

“Really?” Harry looked surprised, as if he couldn't imagine Louis without them. “I’d always imagined you’d look cool with tattoos. All sexy and grown up and stuff.” 

Liam’s eyebrows rose up but Louis ignored him. He ignored everyone else in the room and focused only on Harry’s eyes. “I suppose so, but I’m too much of a baby to get them. You’d look better, I reckon.”

“So you’d never get one?” 

“It’d have to mean something important to me if I ever got one.” 

The interviewer moved on, but Harry’s gaze didn’t. He studied him curiously, and Louis wanted to look away but he was helpless under it. He didn't exactly hate the feeling.

“Dean from Liverpool wants to know what it’s like being put in a band.” 

“S’bit weird at first, but we get on really well,” Liam began. “We were complete strangers, but we've managed to make it work because we all had the same goal. Now, it's like having four new brothers.”

Something that suspiciously sounded like the beginning of “Sweet Home Alabama” started playing in Louis’ head. He did his best to ignore it. 

“Next question is from Elizabeth from London. She was wondering what type of girls you boys fancied.” 

Louis’ and Harry’s eye contact didn’t break even as the other boys started answering the question. 

“I think I like a girl who’s, like, confident in herself.”

“Someone I could have a laugh with, definitely.” 

“A down-to-earth girl, yeah. Someone that wouldn't mind if I was in a band and treat me normally.” 

When it was Louis’ turn, he didn’t really think when he opened his mouth. “It doesn’t particularly matter to me what she’s like, I know I’ll like her no matter what.”

The interviewer cooed. “What a romantic. I bet girls just flock to you, huh? Do you have a specific girl back home, then?”

“Not really, I’m waiting for my soulmate,” he said absently, wondering how deep he could poke Harry’s dimple before he got annoyed.

Harry’s face shattered. 

There was an awkward silence. 

Louis snapped out of it. “Wait, what did I say?”

The interviewer’s eyes widened and she looked down at her notes as if she missed the glaring fact that Louis had a soulmate. He could see the incredulous look flashing on Liam’s face but ignored it in favor of watching Harry’s reaction. Except Harry was avoiding eye contact, and Louis had probably fucked this up again. So much for keeping his private life private.

“I didn’t know you had a soulmate,” the interviewer laughed, ignoring the tension in the room. He could feel the daggers Zayn was sending him. “I thought it was only Harry.”

From behind the clear glass that separated the recording room from where the sound desk was, their PR handlers were currently having a breakdown. Louis could see them whispering to each other and jabbing their thumbs at Louis. He could see now why Simon thought they needed babysitters.

_Oh God, Simon is going to kill me,_ Louis realized. He considered denying it, but it was too late to take it back. “Haha, yeah, I do too. S’not a big deal, really, I’m trying to keep it low-key.” 

One of their handlers popped their head into the room and mouthed, “Next question” at the interviewer, who obliged, although still a bit dazed from the news. If it wasn’t a live show, he was sure they probably would’ve made her cut it out. Louis could feel the other boys’ heavy gaze on him and he tried not to squirm, dreading what would happen once they were back in the dressing room. Harry still wouldn’t look at him. 

Once the interview finished without any new incident - Liam had taken over most of the questions because Louis didn’t trust himself - Harry mumbled a quick thanks and sped away. Louis tried to go after him but was held back by the other three boys, who had varying expressions of hurt and shock. Probably for the best, since he didn’t know what he would even say. “Why didn’t you tell us?” Niall hissed, eyeing their PR people, who were still muttering into their cell phones. 

“Well, you see, Irish,” he started, searching for the right words to say. There were none. “Surprise?”

“This is the _second_ time!” Niall exclaimed. “Why is this the second time? Why are you two so weird?” 

“Can we not have this conversation here?” Louis mumbled, shouldering past the other three so that he could leave the room and find Harry. He ignored the calls of their PR handlers and hurried to their shared dressing room, the other boys on his tails. He knew he was going to get scolded about it later, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

“But why didn’t you tell us?” Liam stressed from behind him. “We said no secrets in the band!” 

“Obviously some of us lied,” Louis snapped. “ ‘M sure the rest of you are keeping secrets too.” 

“I told you lot for the last time, I’m not really blond!” Niall threw up his hands in exasperation. 

“No one thinks you’re a natural blond, Niall!” Zayn exclaimed. 

“Can you two _shut up_?” Louis pushed into the dressing room, where Harry was curled up on the couch, typing on his phone with one hand, an open water bottle in his other. He looked up as the rest of the boys stormed in, but avoided eye contact with Louis. “Are you okay, Haz?”

“Fine,” he mumbled, turning back to his phone. 

“I just don’t get why you didn’t tell us,” Liam brought up again, and Louis wanted to throw his shoe at him. 

“I don’t get why you’re so upset, you see how ruthless the tabloids are with Harry,” he argued. “Why would I want them in my personal business too?”

“Did Hannah know?” Zayn brought up. Right, Zayn knew he and Hannah weren’t actually together. Niall and Liam looked at him curiously, although they didn’t know anything about the situation. He only mentioned breaking up with Hannah in passing. 

The thing was, Hannah didn’t know. Not exactly. She knew, to a certain extent, why Louis wanted the world to think he was off-limits, but he never told her, exactly. He thought she knew, though, either because Stan told her or because he wasn’t as secretive as he thought he was, but she never said anything. The only ones who knew for sure were his mum and Stan, although he supposed the whole world knew now. 

Simon knew. 

Nope, one problem at a time. 

He grabbed Harry’s wrist and pulled him up. “Come on, let’s go.”

“But our cars aren’t here yet?” Niall frowned. 

“Haz and I are calling a cab, we’ll see you later.” Harry didn’t exactly protest as Louis collected their coats with one hand, the other still circled loosely around Harry's wrist. 

"Simon's gonna kill us-" Liam warned. 

"He's going to kill _me_ ," Louis corrected. "I'm already in deep shit, might as well see how much farther I can go."

Without further commenting, Louis pulled Harry out of the room and into the hallway, where radio workers were bustling about for the next segment. He was quiet as Louis brought them outside, eyes trained on the ground as the brisk cold air wrapped around them. Harry slipped his heavy winter coat on while Louis perched sunglasses on his nose, despite the cloudy weather. The streets were marginally empty but he wasn’t sure he could handle bumping into any fans right now, especially since he sort of left their bodyguards back inside. Louis hoped the other boys were able to convince them not to follow the two of them, although he supposed that went against their contract. Oh well, Louis knew how to hide from bodyguards. There was a small secluded alleyway near the radio station, so he pulled them towards it for a bit of privacy. Harry watched as Louis quickly called a cab on his phone. 

"Should be here in ten or so minutes," Louis said after ending it, pocketing his phone. He kept his hands in his pockets, the tips of his fingers freezing. "Which means we can either stand here and talk or we can grab a quick bite from the chippy." 

"Why are we leaving without the other boys?" Harry asked, his voice whisper-soft. 

"Because you look upset and we need to talk."

He shuffled on his feet. "Why didn't you tell me before you had a soulmate? I thought we didn’t keep secrets from each other." 

"You kept it a secret too," Louis shot back feebly. 

"It wasn't much of a secret," Harry argued. "And I would've told you, if you asked." 

"I didn't want everyone to know," he admitted.

"Since when was I everyone?" 

Louis didn't respond, but he did step closer to Harry and slid their cold hands together. He squeezed them tightly, finding comfort in the touch. He almost forgot how much he missed existing in the same air as Harry, even without any words exchanged. Being around the other boy made him feel safe, like he was home. 

(No homo, though.)

Their cab came and Louis held the door open as Harry climbed inside. Louis sat next to him and gave the cabbie the location of their flat. The car itself wasn’t that small, but they still sat close to each other, their thighs pressed tightly together. The heat from Harry’s body burned Louis alive, but he kind of liked the feeling. The cab driver gave them a polite smile but it didn’t look like he recognized them. There were a few pleasantries, but as they pulled away he left them alone. 

“Is that why you got upset over the kiss?” Harry suddenly asked, eyes trained out the window as they drove down the London streets. “Because you have a soulmate?”

Louis glanced over at the cabbie but the older man was focused on the shitty traffic, humming under his breath. “Yeah.”

“It’s not like she would’ve known.”

“But it’s like cheating, innit?” 

Harry eyed him. “How? S’not like you two are in a relationship right now. Whatever you do now won’t change the fact that you’re going to be with her later.”

“But that wouldn’t be fair to whoever I’m with. I’ll just be leading them on, knowing we’re not going to last.”

Harry’s jaw clenched. “So you’d wait forever for some stranger?”

“Wouldn’t you?” 

Harry didn’t answer. He supposed that was the difference between the two of them. Louis was willing to wait forever for love, while Harry chased Love with open palms. 

“Harry-” Louis started.

He turned to face Louis and cut him off with a rushed, “So you’d never do it?”

Louis’ mouth went dry. “Do what?”

“Be in a relationship with someone else?”

“How could I even think about loving someone who isn't-”

“I’m not saying you need to fall in love with someone else,” Harry sighed, leaning back into the seats. He looked tired. “I’m just saying you don’t have to force yourself to be lonely.”

“I’m not lonely,” Louis said. “I’m happy because I have you.”

And the awful part was, it was true. Harry made him happy. 

They pulled up to Princess Park and Louis paid the cabbie more than the ride probably cost. They walked slowly to their flat, Harry troubled and Louis deep in thought. Harry pulled out the key to unlock the front door, and that simple action made something in Louis break. Without thinking much about it, Louis pulled him away from the door and leaned up to press a soft kiss to Harry’s lips. 

Harry, to his credit, didn’t question it.

²⁸ 

  
Surprising absolutely no one, Louis was called in by Simon for an impromptu meeting. He had spent the previous evening dodging calls from everyone except his mum, downplaying his own nervousness with jokes. He woke up convinced that he could handle an angry Simon and planned their impending conversation in his head. However, he was a little confused as to why Harry had to be there as well. They sat side by side in Simon’s office, fidgeting as the older man steepled his fingers and gazed at them stonily. His office was cold and lacked any personal features except for a single picture frame of his current girlfriend on his desk. Louis studied the monochrome carpet underneath their feet instead of his inevitable doom. 

They had already gotten scolded harshly for leaving yesterday without proper bodyguards or a word to anyone, but now it was quiet. 

After what felt like hours of intimidation, Simon cleared his throat. “I think we all know why I called you in here, so we can skip the preamble.”

“I don’t really get why I’m here,” Harry spoke up shyly. He looked rough, clothed in rumpled sweats and what Louis was pretty certain was his shirt, and he rubbed at his tired eyes. Louis wanted to rub his arm comfortingly, but with Simon’s eyes on them, he didn’t dare move. “I didn’t do anything this time.”

Simon gave him a leveled stare. “I thought, when I put the five of you together, that I told you to trust me and let me do my job. Not only would I help your careers grow, I would also keep bullshit out of the news that could harm you and the band.”

Louis squirmed but didn’t look up. 

“So tell me why I had to find out on radio that you were keeping a soulmate from me,” Simon continued. 

“I dunno,” Louis mumbled. “It kinda slipped out?”

“Slipped out?” Simon mocked. “Why didn’t it slip out when I asked if there were any secrets you were keeping?”

“So, what?” Louis snorted. “You could profit off of my love life? No thanks.” 

“You may not realize this now, but marketability is crucial for One Direction to succeed. Your primary audience is single, teenage girls, and there’s nothing they love more than the possibility of dating their favorite band. In their eyes, you’re young and available, someone they could fall in love with. They’re not going to buy your albums if you ruin that image for them.”

“You can’t blame him for having a soulmate,” Harry spoke up. “He can’t control that.”

“No, but there’s something we can control.” Simon pulled out a thick stack of papers printed with a dizzying amount of words. “How familiar are you two with PR relationships?”

Harry frowned in confusion, but the words clicked in Louis' brain faster. He jerked his head up. "Like, fake girlfriends? You want to give us _fake girlfriends?"_

“Wait,” Harry exclaimed, sitting up as well. “I don’t want a fake girlfriend! Is that even legal?” 

“It’s part of your contracts. I can have Janice go over the parts that state we have access to your public personas and are allowed to control as we see fit, if you’d like.”

“But you can’t do this!” Harry’s words didn’t seem to deter him. 

“I know how this might sound,” Simon continued slowly, but Louis was already panicking, “but most public relationships are fabricated to a certain extent. In order to control the fallout, we need to control your public image.”

“But that doesn’t explain why I’m here,” Harry brought up again. “I already came out a while ago, there’s nothing to control.” That wasn’t necessarily true, but something told Louis Simon wasn't going to do anything about the increasing amount of articles coming out accusing Harry of being some kind of lothario interested in taking every woman he’d ever made eye contact with to bed. Always women, Louis noticed. Never men. 

“That’s the problem,” Simon sighed, rubbing his forehead with his thumb and forefinger. “Imagine what it would look like to other people if two members in the same band had soulmates and, currently, live together. They would assume there’s something going on between you two.” He paused and looked at them. “Is there?” 

Harry looked away and bit his bottom lip. 

Louis focused on the photo frame of Simon’s girlfriend. 

“No.”

“Then this shouldn’t be a problem. The best course of action, I think, would be to get Louis a long term relationship. You’ve had a serious girlfriend prior to X-Factor, so it won’t be difficult to promote the “Boyfriend’ image. Rumors will die down once they see that you’re committed to someone, which you had luckily already mentioned being a fan of before.” 

Louis frowned. “Wait, but then people will think-”

“We won’t confirm anything,” Simon interrupted. “But we won’t deny it either. Let the public decide what they want to believe, as long as it generates publicity and keeps your image clean. We’ll search for an appropriate girl sometime in the next week, someone ordinary so that not too many questions will be asked. You’ll have to post about each other and be seen out in public, but that shouldn’t be too difficult.”

Louis’ head whirled with the information. After breaking it off with his fake girlfriend, he was going to get another one. Except this time, instead of being one of his closest friends, it would be some stranger handpicked by Simon or someone else on their team just to make sure Louis’ fuck up didn’t become anything more than it already was. What would he have to do? Hold her hand? Kiss her? Tell the entire world how in love he was with her when he was already drowning in confusion over his current feelings towards a certain someone? A sick feeling spread through him. He didn’t want to do this. Not when he was slowly starting to realize some things about himself. 

“What-” Harry started softly. “What about me?”

Simon regarded him quietly for a few moments, his dark brown eyes intense under his heavy eyebrows. “We use what we already have. You’ve already made quite a name for yourself in the tabloids, but your constant streams of dates can be managed in our favor.”

“I don’t have a constant stream of dates,” Harry argued, which was a lie. Harry loved, and he loved with his entire heart, but he also got bored easily. Louis could see it with every new person he became briefly interested in. For a few months he’d spend time with that person exclusively, texting them at odd hours and murmuring to the boys just how cool and exciting they were, until his feelings evaporated and he left them in search of someone new. It wasn’t surprising that Harry had a crush on him, and it wasn’t surprising that any feelings he had towards Louis were gone. It was just the way things worked. He’d lose interest in Ethan and find himself in the arms of the next boy or girl to catch his eyes. 

It didn’t matter how much Louis hated it, it was what it was. 

“You’re a bit more active in your dating life than the others,” Simon amended. “You won’t get a long term relationship like Louis, but we will set you up on dates with more. . .fitting people.”

“I'm not going back in the closet,” Harry said firmly. “I’m not going to do this if you’re only going to set me up with women. I’m not letting you guys control my sexuality.” 

Louis glanced at Harry, surprised at the intensity in his words. Embarrassing enough, he hadn’t thought about how Harry would’ve felt about this. He had always been rather proud of his sexuality, Louis had just never noticed, or he brushed it off as a joke because Harry was an affectionate person by nature. He wasn’t one to care about how his words and actions might look like to other people. It wasn’t a joke, or some kind of childish experiment. Then again, what straight guy knowingly pursued romantic relationships with other guys? 

Louis was getting confused again.

“No one’s going back in the closet,” Simon reassured. “That’s not my intention, Harry. But I will have to control who you’re publicly seen with, especially since the album is now out and all attention will be on you. You don’t have to date them, but even the suggestion of being romantically linked could work out in our favor.”

Harry frowned, but he didn’t protest. What could he say? Simon knew much more than they did, they had to trust that he knew what he was doing. Louis was dubious, but only because he had done the “fake girlfriend” thing before and it never made things easier. What would his soulmate think if she saw Louis parading around with some other girl that wasn’t her?

So Louis kept quiet. Simon knew what he was doing. 

Simon continued going over details but Louis’ brain switched off. A familiar feeling floated through him, a remnant of a previous conversation he desperately tried to forget, and it caused his fingers to twitch restlessly. His head was stuffed with cotton balls and any words entering his ears exited the same way. Louis had to move, he had to do _something_ , because he had too much nervous energy to function. 

He startled when he saw Harry stand up and quickly went to follow his movements. 

“Louis, a minute,” Simon said. 

Both boys paused, disgruntled looks on their faces. “Why does Louis have to stay?” Harry demanded. His words rang in Louis’ ears but all he could hear was the past. 

“We have some other business to discuss, business that doesn’t include you.” Simon’s voice was stern, and Louis had some clue as to what he wanted to discuss. 

“It’s fine, Hazza,” he forced himself to say, shooting the younger boy a strained smile. “I’ll meet you back at the flat.”

“Are you sure?” Harry frowned. 

“Positive.” 

Harry was reluctant but he eventually left Simon’s office. Now, it was only Simon and Louis, and an uncomfortable silence filled the air. He regretted letting Harry leave so easily, because with him gone, the buzzing in his head seemed to get louder. He couldn’t bully Liam as a distraction right now. He couldn’t do anything.

Simon broke the silence by pulling out what looked like a half-empty bottle of whiskey from under his desk and glass. He began talking as he poured. “I’m certain I don’t have to explain why I kept you back.”

Louis eyed his cup of alcohol, suddenly wishing he had something to mitigate his nerves. “No. Are you supposed to be drinking right now? It’s nearly three in the afternoon.”

“It’s five o’clock somewhere,” he muttered before taking a long sip. 

“Didn’t strike you as a heavy drinker.”

“Didn’t become one until I had to manage you five boys. This bottle was full yesterday.” 

Louis winced and looked down at his lap. He started picking at his nails. “Sorry ‘bout that.” 

Another long stretch of silence. “Louis, do you remember what I told you the last time we talked one-on-one?”

How could he forget? The memory was burned inside him. It was back during X-Factor, when he was still insecure over his role in the band and his voice. Louis had gone to Simon in hopes of reassurance and instead got the most brutal dose of reality he could get. He wasn’t sure what he expected, this was Simon Cowell he was talking about. It didn’t help that his big fight with Liam happened soon after that.

“I can’t afford to fuck up,” Louis sighed. 

“The band can’t afford for you to fuck up,” he corrected. “As the oldest, it’s your job to take care of the rest, but that doesn’t mean your own behavior should be left unsupervised. The others depend on you, so be dependable. Be smart.”

“I am - I’m trying my best.”

“Your best isn’t good enough,” Simon said sharply. He sighed before softening his words. “Look, Louis, I’m not your enemy here. I’m just trying to help.”

Louis tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling. The tiled panels swam in his eyes. “I know.”

“Which is why everything I’m telling you is for your best interest. I’ve mentioned before how your current behavior is inciting rumors, especially when you’re with Harry. Tone it down and consider spending less time with him. Don’t make me regret putting the two of you together.”

Tone what down, exactly? What did he do that incited rumors? Louis thought back to the club he went with his mates, how that one man hit on him, thinking he was gay. What did he do, exactly, that made him come to that conclusion? He had done his best in secondary to stray away from any gay rumors about himself, but they followed him like a bad cold. Was it the way he dressed? The way he looked? Did he have some kind of sign above his head that said “Homo!” on it? 

“I will,” he mumbled. 

“And please, for the love of God, keep your mouth shut. I told you before, if you can’t keep your image clean, I’ll have to find a replacement.”

_“You’re easily replaceable, Louis. As long as you do what I say, I’ll ensure that you stay in this competition longer.”_

Yeah, they’ve had this conversation before. 

He nodded stiffly. “I won’t let you down, sir.” 

Leaving Simon’s office should’ve felt like a breath of fresh air, but his anxiety only seemed to heighten. He was in a daze as he went back home, his fingers trembling when he tried to unlock the door. The quiet inside was deafening and he wondered briefly if Harry went out again, and who he was with. Louis didn’t want every thought of his that dealt with Harry to be tinged with jealousy but he couldn't quite help it. He contemplated calling his mum, but threw that thought away. He was an adult, he couldn’t rely on her forever. 

It took him a few minutes to recognize that a song was playing and it wasn’t inside his head this time. He followed the sounds of “Mamma Mia” to Harry’s door, and normally he wouldn’t be so hesitant to enter considering his lack of boundaries. But Harry probably didn’t want to see Louis after he basically caused them to get fake girlfriends. It was unfair that none of the other boys had to do this and he wondered why it was always so different with Harry. Why it was always Harry he found himself gravitating towards. 

_No one is going back into the closet._

He frowned and leaned against Harry’s door. The door must not have been as firmly shut as he thought it was because it swung open from his weight, and Louis just barely caught himself before he could spill into Harry’s room. Harry looked up from where he was sitting in the middle of his bed, jeans rolled up to his ankles as he leaned over his feet. Louis raised an eyebrow at the bright purple nail polish clutched in one hand and noticed there were some on his toes as well. The colorful thing on Harry’s nails that one day, the way he watched Louis put makeup on Hannah, the makeovers Gemma would give him - it all started to make sense. 

Harry’s eyes widened. “Fuck. . .”

Louis was such an idiot. 

“It’s not what it looks like,” Harry flustered, quickly capping the polish. 

“So you’re not painting your nails?” Louis asked, shoving his hands into his pockets because he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. He took a hesitant step closer and watched as Harry’s eyes flickered towards him with caution. “What are you doing then?”

He swallowed. “Okay, so it’s exactly what it looks like. But I didn’t think - I thought you’d be out longer and was going to -”

“Do you need help?” Louis interrupted. 

Harry’s mouth dropped open. “I - _what?”_

He gestured to the unfinished mess on Harry’s toes. “Do you need help painting them? I could even do your fingernails if you want. I’ve practiced on Lottie lots of times.”

“You don’t-” His eyes searched Louis’ face, shoulders drawn tight to his ears. “You don’t think it’s weird?”

Louis perched himself on the edge of Harry’s bed, close enough to see that he had dry polish scattered on his fingers and his comforter, but not close enough for them to touch. He fiddled with a loose thread on the bed. “Why would I offer to help if I thought it was weird?”

“But it’s not - normal guys don’t-”

“Who gives a fuck about being normal?” Louis snorted. “It’s not weird, Harry. It looks nice on you.” 

A million expressions flashed through Harry’s eyes as he stared at Louis with his mouth popped open. A flush crawled up his neck but Louis was more concerned about the tears filling up in his eyes. 

“Are you alright?” He asked, leaning closer to Harry and placing a comforting hand on his thigh. It was very warm and the point of contact made him lose his breath. 

Harry glanced down at the hand but he didn’t look uncomfortable, so Louis kept it there. “S’fine,” he sniffled, laughing a little. “Just scared of what you would think. I thought you would think I was weird.” 

“You _are_ weird, but not because you paint your nails.” 

He giggled. “Wanker.”

Louis grinned at him before gently pulling the nail polish out of Harry’s hands. He asked a question with his eyes, and with hesitation, Harry nodded. They sat quietly as Louis continued painting Harry’s toes and ABBA played quietly in the background, conscious not to make a mess everywhere because although Lottie had begged him to paint her nails several times, he was an amateur at best. But they turned out well, in his opinion. He pulled away with satisfaction. 

“Want me to do your hands next?” 

He ducked his head. “Wouldn’t the other boys see?” 

“Do you want them to see?”

Harry didn’t answer. 

“They’re not going to care,” Louis reassured him. “They didn’t care when you told them you fancied blokes.”

“That’s different.”

“How is that different?”

He shook his head. “Just, promise you won’t tell? Not before I get the chance to tell them myself?”

A curl of Harry’s hair slipped from its place and Louis twirled it around his fingers. A more rational part of him recognized that he had a slight obsession with Harry’s hair. He ignored it as he tucked the curl behind Harry’s ears. They were a lot closer now, so close Louis could count the individual lashes on his eyes and past acne marks. Harry watched him carefully, his mouth open wide enough to exhale gently. The moment felt suspended in time. 

“I promise,” Louis whispered, and then he pulled away. 

Harry swallowed and looked down, but the weird tension between them didn’t break. It only became more suffocating. “What did Simon say to you? When you stayed back?” 

“Nothing important, don’t worry about it.”

“I like worrying about you.”

“I like-” He stopped himself. He was scared of what he was going to say next. “I like it when you wear nail polish. You should do it more often, it’s pretty.”

“Guys aren’t supposed to be pretty,” Harry scoffed, blushing. 

“Bullshit, have you seen Leonardo Dicaprio in _Titanic_?”

“You’ve seen _Titanic_?”

Louis shrugged. “I have four sisters.” 

Harry ran a hand through his hair, dislodging some of his curls. “So you don’t mind if I want to be pretty? You still want to be my friend?”

“ ‘Course not. I told you before, nothing you say or do would ever stop me from being friends with you. Even if you wore only a dress and heels from now on, I’d still support you.”

Harry wrinkled his nose. “A dress? Isn’t that a bit weird? ‘Cause ‘m a guy and all?”

“S’not weird unless you think it’s weird.” Louis tried to imagine what Harry would look like in a dress, with his hair done up and make-up painted on his face, but he didn’t have any reference point to help with the image. He only knew the boyish Harry with his blazers and ugly purple trainers. “I’ve never seen you in a dress before, but I know you’d be pretty.”

Harry’s eyes widened and Louis panicked for a second, hoping his words weren’t as suggestive as he thought they were. He was supposed to keep things strictly platonic and less. . .whatever the fuck this was between them, per Simon’s rules. He didn’t want to disappoint the man again. 

“Oh my God,” Harry blurted out. “Fuck me.” 

Louis let out a nervous laugh, ignoring how the two words made him feel. “Wha-?”

He had never seen anyone backpedal as hard as Harry did right then. “I - I mean, uh, fuck! That came out wrong, I meant, like, not in _that_ way-”

Whatever self-control Louis had snapped as he watched a flustered Harry stumble over his words. Conscious of the nail polish on Harry’s bed, he leaned over and pressed a careful kiss to Harry’s lips, effectively shutting him up. Harry tensed underneath him, but Louis pulled away before he could choose whether to pull him away or closer. His eyes blinked open and Louis tried not to think about how unheterosexual that was. 

No wonder people thought he was gay, he couldn’t stop kissing Harry.

“What,” Harry exhaled after a long moment of tense silence, “was that?”

Louis was so tired of thinking. He was tired of second-guessing every single one of his actions and arguing with the voice inside his head - which sounded suspiciously like Stan - every time he thought of Harry more times than any friend should. He was tired of keeping secrets and answering the same questions every day. He was tired of not knowing what exactly he wanted from life, and he was tired of being lonely, and he was tired of pretending he didn’t like kissing Harry. 

He was tired of having to be the mature one. For once, he just wanted to be impulsive and _do_. 

“Remember what I said after I kissed you that first time?” He asked. 

Harry’s green eyes glowed as the afternoon light filtered into the room through his window. “You said it was a mistake.” 

Louis cupped Harry’s cheeks with one hand, stroking the heated skin slowly. “Want to make another mistake?”

²⁸ 

  
Her name was Eleanor and when he went to officially meet her after Simon notified him of her existence, he couldn’t help but think how her eyes weren’t green like he wanted.

²⁸ 

  
The thing about One Direction was that, while they had a lot of secrets, they ultimately sucked at keeping them. 

So when Niall burst into his dressing room before tour rehearsals as Louis was searching for his extra trainers - Zayn stole his other ones and Liam stole his socks, and the floors were too freezing cold for him to be impressed by their pranking - he was only slightly surprised to hear the words tumble out of his mouth. 

_“You fucked Harry?”_

It was a good thing there was no one else in there, especially since he was technically sharing the dressing room with Harry and he knew the younger boy would’ve died of embarrassment. 

Louis startled. “How did you - I told Zayn not to say anything-”

“Zayn didn’t tell me.”

“I knew it would be Liam, that little shit doesn’t know how to keep his mouth closed-”

“It wasn’t Liam,” Niall interrupted, a little flustered. “Harry told me.”

Louis considered it. “Well, that’s fair.” 

“But why did - how do Liam and Zayn know?”

Great question. Louis was known to overshare and Zayn was often the victim of his intrusive ramblings, so it only made sense for him to go straight to Zayn’s flat the next day and announce, without preamble or common sense, that he and Harry had sex. He didn’t count for Liam to also be over for some reason and overhear Louis spilling everything, but he didn’t have time to question his presence before he was hounded on by the other two boys. 

“What do you mean you two _had sex?”_ Zayn had demanded, five seconds away from tearing out his hair. “What part of ‘ _don’t hurt Harry_ ’ do you not understand-?”

“Are you telling me Larry is real?” Liam had shouted over him. 

“Stop hitting me with the pillow!” Zayn was hitting Louis with pillows.

It was a very chaotic ten minutes. When they had finally calmed down enough to have a civil conversation, Louis explained everything that had happened, skipping over Harry and his nail polish because he kept his promises. They were, notably, confused as to how finding Harry listening to ABBA in his room and telling him he was pretty led to them doing the Devil’s Tango, but Louis didn’t want to explain it. He wasn’t even sure how to explain it. One moment he was lost in the green of Harry’s eyes, the next, he was lost in his sheets. 

“I’m glad that you’re finally accepting the fact that you’re gay, but you shouldn’t lead Harry on like that-”

“Oh, I’m not gay,” Louis interrupted Zayn. He shrugged a bit. “It was just sex, it doesn’t mean anything.”

Zayn stared at him. 

“And you think it doesn’t mean anything to Harry?” Liam asked, baffled. 

Louis shrugged again. “He doesn’t have a crush on me anymore, so it’s fine.”

“But you two had sex?” Liam questioned. 

“Yeah, but it was platonic.”

“How _the fuck_ do you platonically have sex with someone?”

Zayn’s mouth opened and then closed it. Louis wondered if he finally broke him. “I hate this fucking band,” he had finally said, leaving to make them some tea.

“Louis, what’s two plus two?” Liam had asked, almost out of nowhere. 

“Four?” He didn’t know where this was going. 

“Good, I want you to use that to measure the line that you just crossed.”

Needless to say, they weren’t happy about it. But Harry was fine. He would’ve told Louis if he didn’t like it, right? And considering the scratch marks on his back, he’d say Harry liked it a lot. 

Presently, Niall was pacing the length of the room, his hands running through his bleached hair. “I can’t believe Zayn and Liam knew before me,” he muttered under his breath. 

“Apparently this entire band knows I fucked Harry.”

Niall stopped. “ _You fucked Harry_!” He screeched.

He leaped over to slam his palm over Niall’s mouth, conscious of the thin walls. “Shut the fuck up, Niall. I don’t want the entire fucking world to know, now.” 

Niall looked apologetic as he pried Louis’ hand off. At least he didn’t lick it this time. “Sorry, it’s just - I don’t get it. Did you really make that large as shit hickey on his neck?”

Louis took a minute to gather his thoughts. Thinking about the hickey on Harry’s neck made him think about the other hickeys he left in less noticeable places. “And if I did?”

Niall groaned. “Louis, what the fuck?” 

He had the worst bandmates ever. All they did was call him out on his bad decisions and eat his good cheese. He moved back to where he kept his things and grabbed his extra trainers, thinking his next words carefully as Niall watched him. “Okay, I know how this sounds, but it’s not as big a deal as you three are making it out to be. It was just a one night stand.”

Niall threw him an incredulous look. “With someone you live with? Tommo, that’s textbook friends to lovers.” 

“That’s not how it works,” Louis shook his head, although his heart twinged at the word ‘lover’. He slipped on his shoes and double-tied the laces. “It was convenient for the both of us, and we agreed that we wouldn’t let it change anything.” Louis was only half-lying. Harry had his head tucked into Louis’ chest when he said that his feelings towards the younger boy hadn’t changed, he still thought of him as one of his best friends. Harry hadn’t responded for so long that Louis thought he had fallen asleep, but he finally murmured, “I don’t want things to change. I don’t want to lose you.” Which pretty much meant the same thing.

Niall didn’t look convinced. “I’ve seen enough movies to know that having sex with your friends often leads to you two no longer being friends, either for a good or bad reason. Just skip all the unnecessary shit now and get together. Not like anyone would be surprised, half the entire internet already thinks you two are shagging.”

“Have you forgotten that we both have soulmates? ‘Sides, I’m not even gay.”

“But you had sex with-”

“Yes, I _know_ , but that doesn’t mean I could ever be in a relationship with him,” Louis interrupted. “I love Harry, but not like that. I don’t think I could ever fall in love with someone who isn’t my soulmate.”

Niall frowned. “You sound like you’re lying.”

Louis ignored him.

“Look, if you want my advice-”

“Niall, you once said mayo was spicy, I’m not taking any advice from you,” Louis interrupted. 

“If it’s not spicy, why did it make my tongue tingle?”

“What kind of mayo are you eating?”

But before Niall could give an in-depth explanation of the brand of mayo he bought from Sainsbury’s, there was a knock on the door. One of the tour assistants popped their heads in and pointed at their watch. “You’re needed in five down at the stage.”

Louis nodded and the assistant disappeared. “Time to head out, Horan, unless you have any more unnecessary things to say.”

Niall wasn’t a confrontational guy, so he dropped his shoulders in defeat. “I’ve seen the gray in Zayn’s hair, I’m not involving myself in that shit. Just - don’t hurt Harry.”

“I would never.”

Louis ignored the heaviness in his limbs during rehearsals as they went over their songs and the potential choreography they weren’t going to execute well, all while eyeing the hickey on Harry’s neck with satisfaction. His shirt did little to hide it and he wondered if Harry wanted it to be like that. He wondered if they should have talked about it more. He wondered a lot of things, but for once he didn’t want to think. 

²⁸ 

  
When he had to hold Eleanor’s hand as they went out for lunch, he couldn’t help but think her hands didn’t fit perfectly in his. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was such a bitch to write, omg. Sorry if Louis' actions confused you, he's an unreliable narrator and spent this entire chapter lying. 
> 
> To clarify a few things you might have found confusing: 
> 
> \- Louis asked Hannah to be his fake girlfriend so that people wouldn't think he was gay
> 
> \- Stan knows. 
> 
> \- Louis is in love with the thought of having a soulmate moreso than the actual person
> 
> \- He thinks being in love = happiness, and you can't be happy if you're gay (case in point, Tyler)
> 
> \- He didn't think Harry actually liked boys romantically, he thought he was just experimenting with them 
> 
> \- Louis likes kissing Harry but he still sees himself as straight because gay = unhappy (lmao ironic)
> 
> \- Back on X-Factor, Louis told Simon he was feeling insecure about his place in the band and Simon told him he was replaceable. The fight with Liam from chapter 3 happened after that and Louis got mad at him because Simon preferred Liam over him. He felt vindicated because at least Simon said no the first time so Liam also sucked at some point.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no beta or common sense we die like men

_"and we're just having sex, no, I would never call it love_   
_but love_

_oh no, i think i'm catching feelings"_  
\- sex (catching feelings), EDEN

²⁸

  
Harry had a theory. When you’re born, the universe chooses one special person to put in your life. You could either let them change you, or let them break your heart. Although, he supposed, destruction was just a different form of change, and change was often inevitable. Louis Tomlinson was inevitable. He was a once-in-a-lifetime kind of person, and Harry was honored that the universe had decided to put him in his life. 

Even if Louis sometimes made him sad. No one said change was supposed to make you happy. 

Harry tried to get over him. He tried dating other people, searching for a recreation of whatever feelings he had with Louis. Harry tried spending less time with him, hoping that absence made his feelings disappear. None of it mattered in the end. It was another theory of his: no one could ever get over Louis Tomlinson. 

So Harry was stuck in this weird limbo; where his feelings for Louis were suspended in time, too precious to get rid of, but unable to grow into something more. Because Louis didn’t like Harry the way Harry liked Louis, and Louis didn’t want Harry as anything more than a best mate that he occasionally slept with. Which was . . .fine. Totally fine. So whenever Louis pulled Harry close and kissed him with the gentleness of a lover, he didn’t allow himself to hope for more. He’d take whatever he could get, because he’d rather have parts of Louis than none at all. 

Or maybe Harry was just an idiot. An idiot that cared too much about the wrong person. 

But that wasn’t the point. Harry was finally living his dream life, he didn’t have time to worry about his sad excuse of a romantic life. Not when he was finally achieving something. Not when being a singer wasn’t just a farfetched dream from a starry-eyed boy who had been taught to reach for the stars. He had the entire galaxy in his hands and he fell in love with it. 

Their tour for _Up All Night_ started in England and Harry was wracked with nerves as they first stood on the small stage. Despite their tiring rehearsals, he was still afraid of fucking up. But after the first couple of shows, being on stage began to feel like second nature. He loved pouring his heart into the songs as the other boys pranced along the stage, feeding off of the crowd’s exhilarating energy. He loved talking with them, sharing brilliant knock-knock jokes that made the fans and their tired parents chuckle, even if the other boys dramatically covered their ears every time. It was hard being the funniest member of the band. 

Adrenaline coursed through his veins after every show, and maybe it was from the energy of the fans, or maybe it was from Louis. Because Harry was locked under the older boy's spell and he didn't mind much. Louis' lips were poisoned every time he pulled Harry away from the others for a quick snog before their performances, and Harry died every night in bliss, pink-cheeked and dazed. And if he did particularly well that night, Louis would reward him with more snogging in their hotel rooms or in the back corners of the tour bus. Harry had never cared about this sort of thing before, but fuck, Louis was an amazing kisser.

He was fucked, both literally and figuratively. 

Harry fiddled with his earbuds while avoiding Niall's disappointed eyes. They were currently in Dublin for their first show in Ireland, and Niall was adamant that they go out later that night for drinks although they had a show the next day in Belfast. It was their last show until April, where they would be doing an Australian leg of the tour, and Harry couldn’t wait. He loved performing every night, but he also missed relaxing in his bed. Or in Louis’ bed. Ever since they started this . . . thing between them, any physical boundaries were shattered. It wasn’t weird for them to end up in the same bed after a long day, cuddling together while watching a new series on Netflix off of Louis’ laptop. Sometimes they snogged, sometimes they didn’t. But they always ended up waking tangled together. It was kind of like back in X-Factor, but something felt different this time. 

Harry didn’t want to admit it to himself, because then he would be doing what Louis didn’t want them to be doing: making it more than physical. But everytime Harry woke up before Louis and he had the privilege to see the older boy snoring gently into the pillow, his caramel-brown hair a mess, the pillow imprinted on his cheeks, his heart would twist in pain because of how natural it all felt. Like they were supposed to be doing this. Like nothing else in the world made sense except them being together.

But that sounded too much like they were soulmates and Harry would rather not have his feelings hurt again. 

Niall groaned loudly, breaking Harry out of his thoughts. “Stop, gross! You’re making that face again!”

“What face?” He rolled his eyes, untangling his earbuds. He had left them in his pockets for five minutes, how did they get so many knots? Maybe he could snag Louis’ from his bag.

“The ‘I-want-to-have-ten-kids-with-Louis-Tomlinson face’,” Niall explained.

“I don’t have that face!”

“You do! It actually looks a lot like your murder face, for some reason. I’m actually really scared for Louis’ life.”

Harry gave Niall a deadpan look from where he was sprawled on the couch in their shared dressing rooms. Their show was in over an hour and they were supposed to be warming up and getting ready, but Zayn and Louis had disappeared to terrorize the stage crew and Liam went with them to make sure no one got arrested. “I don’t have a murder face.”

Niall raised an eyebrow. “You so do. The face you make when you stare at Louis actually terrifies me.”

“Not that hard to do, small birds terrify you. Funny, because you’re the same size as them.”

“What is this, Insult Niall Day?” Niall scoffed. “I thought that was last Thursday.”

“No, last Thursday was Taco Night.”

“Ah, yes, I seem to get those two mixed up a lot.”

Harry tried to smile at Niall’s small joke, but it was hard mustering up any positive energy when he remembered Taco Night. They didn’t have a show last Thursday, so Louis took advantage of their brief respite to litter love bites all over Harry’s neck. It was a very fun Thursday. Louis had also laughed at Harry the following day when their makeup artist asked why there were so many bruises on his skin and Harry muttered something about being attacked by a dog. Liam had asked if the dog was named Louis and Louis had thrown his shoe at Liam’s face, effectively ending the conversation. Shoes were now banned from the makeup room. 

The actual experience itself wasn’t that bad (Harry was a virgin before meeting Louis so it wasn’t like there was anything he could compare it to), but the dark look in Louis’ eyes as he examined Harry’s neck, as if claiming it for himself, made butterflies flutter aggressively in his tummy. And Harry had listened to enough Taylor Swift songs to know that butterflies fluttering aggressively in your tummy meant trouble. 

Niall sighed from where he was leaning against the wall, his phone already shoved back in his pocket. He walked towards the couch and dropped unceremoniously on Harry's extended legs. Harry let out a grunt at the sudden heavy weight and shuffled under him so that Niall didn’t break his legs. He was weirdly heavy for being a human equivalent of a chihuahua. “I think we need to have a talk.”

“I already learned about the birds and the bees.”

“Yeah, I’m sure Louis taught you a lot,” Niall rolled his eyes, patting the part of Harry's leg he wasn’t sitting on. “But that’s not it. You’ve just been acting weird lately. Is it ‘cause of Louis?”

Harry’s laugh was strained. He didn’t like that he was so obvious. “Why would it be about Louis? We’re actually doing really fine, right now.”

Niall gave him a disbelieving look. Harry regretted dragging him into this mess, although it wasn’t like he did it on purpose. In fact, he had planned on keeping it a secret from everyone, even Gemma, because it was his first time and he wanted it to be between him and Louis only. He didn’t want it to be a secret, he just wanted it to be private. Something no one else could take away from them. That was ruined the moment they entered rehearsals for their tour the next day and Harry underestimated just how many love bites Louis had made. Niall saw one peeking out from his collar and Harry was so flustered, he blurted it out. 

He had never seen anyone turn red as fast as Niall did. 

And now here they were. He wasn’t sure how Zayn and Liam found out but they didn’t seem too surprised when Louis would pull Harry away for a quick snogging session. They would smirk when Harry came back with swollen lips and Louis had an obvious tent in his pants, but no one ever said the obvious. Yet it felt like his feelings were becoming more and more apparent to the other boys, which sucked because they still had to keep their relationship a secret. From Simon, from the fans, from Eleanor. 

His frown deepened. He had nothing against the girl, but he was here first. He deserved to hold Louis’ hands more than she did. 

_Shut up Harry, you two are not actually a couple._

_They’re not either._

He really needed to stop talking to himself. 

Niall’s face softened, as if he could hear Harry’s internal monologue. “Harry, I see the way you look at him. Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t have feelings for Louis.”

“I don’t have feelings for-” He stopped himself, frustrated. He couldn’t get his mouth to form the right words. 

“Are you going to finish?”

Harry shook his head, defeated. 

“That’s what I thought.”

“But it’s not a big deal,” he argued. “It’s only because we’ve slept together. I read this cool study once that said when you have sex, vasopressin gets released and it makes you feel attached to the person you shagged, right? And like, when oxytocin is released in a girl, it makes her feel connected to the person, even if they’re her best mate.”

“Yeah, but you’re not a girl.”

“It probably works the same way,” Harry countered. “I’m confusing my feelings for Louis as romantic because we’re shagging. It’s biological.”

Niall stared down at him. “You two are idiots. Like, actual idiots. I’ve never seen two stupider people and I once saw Liam choke on a croissant.”

“Rude.”

“What about Ethan?” Niall suddenly asked.

Harry blanked. “Who?”

Niall sighed. “Maybe you two are meant for each other.”

Something clicked in his head. Oh yeah, Ethan. Truthfully, Harry hadn’t thought of the other boy in a while. He broke things off after he and Louis kissed that first time, because his mind was too full of _LouisLouisLouis_ to ever pay anyone else attention. Ethan took it relatively well, although Harry was certain he was relieved because after the whole stint at the party, Ethan had confessed that Louis scared him a bit. But Harry wasn’t going to tell Louis that. It would make his big (if not lovely) head even bigger. 

It was bad enough Louis referred to their relationship as ‘happy little mistakes’, as if it was a Bob Ross painting. In the end, it didn’t matter. None of it did, so Harry shouldn’t be stressing over it this much.

He told Niall as much, but the other boy didn’t look like he believed him. “Harry, if I can give you some advice -”

“Absolutely not,” he cut him off. “All of your relationships last five minutes.”

“Rude,” Niall huffed, repeating Harry’s earlier words. “It’s not my fault they can’t handle all my Irish charm.”

“Not everyone wants to date someone whose only personality trait is being Irish.”

“What’s wrong with being Irish?” 

“Do you want the list in alphabetical or chronological order?” 

Niall rolled his eyes. “Fine, whatever. Don’t come crawling back to me when Louis drops you.”

A retort lodged itself in Harry’s throat. He stared up at the ceiling. He didn’t want to, but his brain started going through a million ways his thing with Louis could crash and burn, and anxiety began pressing itself down on his chest. He struggled to breathe for a moment and stuttered out a panicked, “You think Louis’ going to drop me?” It wasn’t like he hadn’t considered it before, good things never last, but it was different when someone else pointed it out. 

Niall hesitated. Nothing good happened when Niall hesitated. “I’m just saying,” he started slowly. “You shouldn’t be surprised when this thing between you two ends. I love Louis, he’s like a brother to me, but, like, he can act like a cunt sometimes.”

“Yeah, but he’s my cunt.”

“I need you to repeat what you just said, but slowly.”

Harry huffed, affronted. He pushed Niall off of his legs, watching as he tumbled to the ground with a surprised yelp. Harry’s legs were asleep and he shook them restlessly. “You know what I mean. Just because Louis’ a bit prickly doesn’t mean he’s gonna break my heart. He just likes taking care of me.”

“That’s the problem,” Niall sighed, starfished on the ground. “Louis could break your heart and you wouldn’t even know because you’ll think that’s what love is supposed to feel like.”

(Perceptive little Leprechaun bitch.)

Harry sat up and placed his hands on his thighs, contemplating disagreeing. It was futile though. He knew what he was getting into, he knew the rules he had to abide by. So he had no room to complain about what happened when this ended. He exhaled softly and stood up, pins and needles pricking his feet as they slowly woke up. “We might as well look for the other boys before we get in trouble again.”

“So we’re just going to change the subject?” Niall asked, watching Harry put his headphones and phone away. “You’re going to have to face this eventually.”

“I don’t want you to make a big deal out of it,” Harry retorted. “We should head to hair and makeup.”

Niall frowned but didn’t disagree with him. They had a show to do. 

Performing wiped every thought out of Harry’s head that wasn’t centered around how loud the crowd screamed for them, how bright the lights swirled in his eyes, or the floaty feeling in his chest. Harry was in love with this feeling. He felt weightless. 

Louis’ eyes were especially bright that night. Harry’s gaze followed him as he strutted around the stage, rubbed Niall’s head with his knuckles during most of Zayn’s solos, and bounced on the red couch they kept in the middle. He would brush against Harry and send him secretive smiles that made his heart race. Sometimes he would whisper things into Harry’s ears, suggesting funny things he could do to get the crowd riled up. Harry would do anything to make Louis smile. 

He especially loved changing up their lyrics, because while Louis would shake his head in faux disappointment when Harry sang about “big brown poo”, his eyes would still crinkle at the corners. Sometimes Louis himself would suggest what he should sing about, and Harry was nothing if not a fool for him. 

Louis pulled him away into a secret nook after the concert and raised his eyebrows. " _‘She can deepthroat’_? Really?”

“Yeah, that came out of nowhere.”

“Speaking of deepthroating-”

And things, as usual, spiralled from there. 

²⁸

  
Harry was texting Gemma when someone knocked on their front door. He groaned in frustration as he remembered that Louis wasn’t there, which meant he had to climb out of his comfortable bed to see who it was. He stumbled to his feet and the chilly air from the aircon against his bare legs reminded him that he needed to put trousers on. Disgruntled at his afternoon of relaxation being disrupted, Harry made his way to the front door. He hesitated as he reached for the doorknob. As far as he was aware, he hadn’t received any notification from the other boys or his family that they were going to drop by for an impromptu visit, and it wasn’t like he had any specific plans for today. They had a scheduled TV interview in a week but that didn’t warrant a visit to Princess Park. It could’ve been Louis, except Louis had his keys. There was really only one other option. 

There was a murderer waiting outside the door.

Except it was four in the afternoon and most murderers wouldn’t strike if it was bright out. Oh God, what if it was Ted Bundy? Wait, no, he was dead. Or was he? 

Harry’s mind ran through several worst case scenarios, half-aware that the probability of him getting murdered by opening his door was slight, but unwilling to shake off that 0.0001% chance (he totally blamed Louis and his penchant for staying up watching serial killer documentaries instead of something nice, like _Love, Actually_ or _The Notebook_ ). 

Loud, impatient knocks startled Harry out of his panic. “I know you’re standing there, let me in!”

Eyebrows furrowed in confusion, Harry unlocked the door and opened it slightly, peeking his head out. He blinked away the dazing bright lights from the sun, the sky clear and blue for once, and let his gaze focus on the figure slouched on his doorstep. Harry wasn’t sure how to feel about Stan, Louis’ best mate, standing in front of him, a hood covering his brown hair and a displeased twist to his lips. He definitely did not know Stan was coming, and he was sure Louis hadn’t mentioned anything either. He opened the door wider and let him inside, though, because although he didn’t know much about Stan, he was still a courteous person. Harry shut the door quickly behind him just in case there was a murder waiting to kill them. 

Harry cleared his throat, unsure what to do as an awkward air began filling in between them. Why was Stan here? It wasn’t like Harry saw him without Louis around much. 

Stan answered his question five seconds later when he whirled around and asked, “Is Louis here?”

“Oh, um, not really,” Harry answered, a bit taken aback by the intense annoyance in his voice. He scratched the back of his neck. “He’s not going to be back for a while. Didn’t he tell you he would be out?”

Stan rolled his eyes before stalking into the living room and dropping on the couch, making himself at home. Harry was struck with a feeling of intimidation. It wasn’t like Stan was intimidating physically or anything, and he didn’t look mean, but he still was a uni student that had far more life experiences than Harry had. Louis sometimes felt that way too. Although he had many, many immature moments, there were times when he acted more mature than people first assume. More dominant. “He’s been ignoring me for weeks now.”

Harry fidgeted with his graphic t-shirt. He recalled, suddenly, a moment during a concert in London when he was feeling particularly cheeky and changed the lyrics to “More Than This”. Louis had given him a strange look on stage but didn’t say anything until after, and then confronted him back on the tour bus. 

“ ‘ _I can love you more than Stan_ ’?” He questioned, repeating what Harry had sung earlier. There was a smile tugging on the corner of his lips that told Harry he wasn’t particularly upset. 

Harry shrugged. “Just wanted the fans to know.”

“They don’t even know who Stan is-”

“Well, now they know he will always be second to me.”

Louis’ phone had buzzed then and he only glanced at the screen for a second. “Great, now Stan’s calling me.”

“Tell him I’m better than he will ever be.”

Louis only laughed and tossed his phone away. The other boys pulled their attention to them as someone pulled out a 3DS and they spent the next two hours playing _Pokemon_. 

It only occurred to Harry now that Louis never called Stan back. He couldn’t remember the last time the two had hung out, but in all fairness, they had been busy touring. Louis probably forgot. “He’s actually out with Eleanor right now. He should be back in an hour or so.”

Stan wrinkled his nose. “Who’s Eleanor? Oh, is she the bird Louis keeps hanging around with?”

Harry cleared his throat again. He didn’t really like thinking about them being together, even though they weren’t really in a relationship. He knew Louis had no real interest with her, claiming that she wasn’t his type although Louis wouldn’t tell him what his type actually was. Harry wasn’t stupid enough to hope that he could change himself to make Louis like him, but he at least wanted to know what his competition was. “Yeah, they’re, uh, supposed to be together.”

Stan scoffed at the response and started scrolling through his phone. He looked bored. “That’s such bullshit. Louis doesn’t even like girls.”

He said it offhandedly, as if it was a fact that everyone knew, and Harry’s thoughts stumbled to a stop. “ _What_?”

Stan didn’t look up. Harry neared him and saw that he was playing Angry Birds. “I mean it’s obvious that he’s gay as fuck.”

“ _What_?” Harry repeated. The last person he expected to make claims about Louis’ sexuality was his best mate. “But Louis isn’t gay. He said-”

“Louis' a fucking liar, trust me,” Stan snorted. He ran a relaxed hand through his hair, glancing briefly at the clock they put up above the television. “He once tried to convince me penguins had teeth. I looked like a dumbass when we went to the zoo.”

Harry started pacing. There was no way - it couldn’t be that easy. There was no fucking way. “That doesn’t make sense, why would he lie about it? What’s the point?”

Stan finally looked up. There was a curious glint in his eyes, and Harry was struck with the uncomfortable realization that he didn’t know everything about Louis the way Stan did. The way he wished he did. “Oh, you seriously think - “ He stopped himself, and it looked like he was actually considering how to phrase this. He leaned forwards and steepled his fingers together, as if he was about to start a lecture. “Have you ever heard of internalized homophobia?” 

“You think Louis has internalized homophobia?” Harry was so out of his depth here. He didn’t get it, not really, and maybe it was because he escaped the worse that could’ve happened when he came out back home (not that he was ever “in the closet”, he thought it was rather obvious considering everyone saw him snog a bloke in year 10), and maybe it was because he only lost a few mates that he didn’t even like that much and had to deal with normal teasing, but it didn’t make sense to him why someone would hate a part of themselves like that.

“I _know_ he has internalized homophobia,” Stan sighed. “Donny wasn’t the best place to grow up gay, let me tell you that. Just look at Tyler.”

“I don’t know who that is.”

“Ah, right. Well, just know he had a rough go of things. Poor kid stopped going to school in year eleven.”

“But, that doesn’t mean Louis is as well. How would you even know he was gay if he didn’t tell you?” Although, really, it shouldn’t be a surprise. They did snog (and do more than just snogging, let’s be honest), and Harry was certain no straight person had a tongue that talented. 

Stan laughed not unkindly. “You really think Louis is straight? You took one look at him and thought that was a heterosexual lad?”

“I mean- I didn’t want to stereotype. . .”

Stan searched Harry’s face, his amused smile turning serious. “Mate, he once kissed me when we were twelve. He ignored me for a week straight and only started talking to me again when he became obsessed with finding his 'female'-” He made air quotes around the word. “-soulmate, huge emphasis on female. Louis doesn’t fancy girls the way he thinks he does. He’s gayer than the number three.” 

Harry frowned. “How is the number three ga-” The wheels in his head stopped turning and the world tilted dangerously for a few seconds. “Wait, Louis _kissed_ you?”

Stan shrugged, leaning back into the couch. “We were twelve. I’m over it but I guess Lou thinks it’s some kind of crime ‘cause he never mentioned it again.” 

“But he kissed you?”

“Yeah, for, like, two seconds. Why, does it bother you - _oh_.” A shit-eating grin filled Stan’s face. He leaned forwards again and peered at Harry’s panicked face. “You fancy him.”

Fuck fuck fuckity fuck.

“I never said that,” Harry protested. 

“You don’t have to, I can see it in your eyes.” His grin faded away and something troubled passed through. “The entire world can see it, I reckon.”

Harry had to sit down on the couch opposite of Stan before he did something embarrassing like throw up. He tried to think things through logically but his brain snagged on one piece of information and played it over and over again like a broken record. He stared at the ground. “Everyone knows?” He asked quietly.

Stan sighed. “Sorry, Styles, thought you knew. I mean, I kinda thought you and Louis were already a thing since he also looks at you like that.”

“Like what?”

He waved his hand abstractly. “Like you’re the only person in the world he wants to be around. Surprised you two aren’t shagging already.” 

Harry coughed into his fist nervously. He had never been subtle.

Stan’s eyes widened. “Holy fuck, don’t tell me you two are -”

“We’re not dating,” Harry clarified. “Louis doesn’t like me like that.”

“Bullshit,” he scoffed. “And that motherfucker has the audacity to call himself straight as if he didn’t wank to that poster of David Beckham during sleepovers.” 

That was way too much information. Or not enough information. Harry’s mind was flooded with images of a younger Louis wanking during the dead of night and stifling his moans with a fist pressed to his mouth and, Jesus fuck, Harry’s pants were getting tight. And then an awful thought filled his head. Oh God, was Louis’ type David Beckham? Older, stronger men with sharp as fuck jawlines and abs that could shred cheese? Was Harry just a temporary fix until Louis found someone worthier of his affections? How could Harry ever compete with that? Except, no. There was no way Louis would leave Harry for David Beckham, he was already married to a woman. But who's to say Louis wouldn't leave him anyway?

Gemma once said that he tended to obsess over the worst case scenarios too much, blowing them up until they seemed inevitable. Catastrophizing, she told him over the phone. For all that Harry loved his sister, he hated how she never told him how to solve his problems, only pointed them out so that Harry worried about them even more. 

Louis was a common topic of conversation between them that Gemma never helped him solve.

Harry circled back to the main problem that he still couldn’t understand. “But why would Louis not tell me?” Harry asked, frustrated. “Why would he sleep with me but tell me he was straight?”

“I mean, that should’ve been your first clue that he was kinda gay-”

“Why wouldn’t he just tell me, though?”

“I mean, he’s still figuring himself out-”

“He hates me,” Harry decided, his brain ruining everything for him. “Or - I mean, he doesn’t like me. Not romantically. I feel so stupid, oh my God, of course he doesn’t. God, he probably would rather be with David Beckham.”

Stan ran a hand through his hair, appearing half-amused and half-concerned at Harry’s spiraling train of thought. It was only a bit awkward to air his insecurities about Louis to his best mate. “To be fair, everyone would want to be with David Beckham. I’m straight but his jawline is very chiseled.” Harry frowned and Stan shrugged. “Sorry, mate. He’s a handsome bloke.”

Before Harry could find a retort, the front door opened.

His first thought, embarrassing enough, was that a serial killer had finally broken in. 

His next thought was Louis, and that was much worse. 

He stiffened, but Stan didn’t look too worried. He leaned back and waited for Louis’ entrance. 

Louis’ raspy high voice floated towards them as he shoved off his shoes at the entrance. It was light and sing-songy and the sickly feeling in Harry's stomach doubled. “Honey, I’m home! I faked a stomach bug so they’d let me go early. No offense to El, she’s a lovely girl, but being around her so much makes me-” Louis rounded the corner into the living room and paused. His eyes flickered from Stan’s relaxed state on the couch to Harry nervously biting his fingernails across from him. His expression was carefully controlled. “Right, what’s all this about, then?” 

An awkward pause. Harry didn’t want to, but he found himself taking Louis in hungrily. His hair was in the messy swept fringe that he liked sporting, and they showed off his bright blue eyes even more. The barest sprinkling of facial hair was scattered above his thin upper lip, and Harry hated himself for fantasizing about biting those pink lips and kissing them until they were red and puffy. Jesus, he needed to go to horny jail. 

Stan broke the uncomfortable silence. “You’re such a bitch, Lou. I’ve been trying to reach you for ages but you’ve been ignoring me calls.”

Louis didn’t move from his spot, his keys held loosely in his hands. He had on a light jacket over a simple white top and gray skinnies, and it was unfair how he made the simplest outfits so attractive. His gaze flitted from Stan to Harry. “I’ve been busy.” 

“Busy for four months?” Stan asked, eyebrows raised. Harry shifted uncomfortably.

“I’ve had things to do,” Louis lightly shrugged. There was something weird in his voice Harry couldn’t figure out. Was he embarrassed that he hadn’t found the time to return his best friend’s calls, or was he just annoyed that he got caught? Or was there something else?

“With that girl you’re not dating?” Stan scoffed, standing up from the couch and crossing his arms. He suddenly seemed annoyed, as if Louis’ fake relationship with Eleanor inconvenienced him in some way.

A vein in Louis’ temple twitched. There was a slight crack in his facade but he mended it quickly. He didn’t look too bothered. “Alright, I think it’s time for you to leave.”

Harry’s eyes widened. Were they having a fight? He opened his mouth to intervene, but Stan beat him to it.

“This is the first time we’ve seen each other in months and this is how you treat me?” His brows furrowed slightly. “I was just having a lovely chat with your boy, don’t be so rude.”

“Don’t call him that,” Louis said. “He’s not my boy.” A sharp pinch of pain hit Harry out of nowhere. He really wanted to be Louis’ boy. God, he wanted so much that he couldn’t have.

Stan turned to Harry with a laugh. “See? He’s a fucking liar, an awful one at that.” 

Louis sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Stan, please-”

He cut him off sternly. “ _Louis_. C’mon, mate, don’t do this again. You don’t need to keep pretending.”

Louis searched Stan's face with a frown. The tension felt unbearably thick, and it made it hard to breath. This entire conversation was flying over his head, and Harry should probably give them privacy to deal with their issues, but he was rooted to the spot. He squeezed his hands into fists, his nails pressing into the soft skin of his palm. The sharp pain stopped him from blurting out something stupid.

“Did you really kiss Stan?” Harry blurted out. 

Well, nevermind then. He should just tape his mouth shut next time.

Louis’ eyes widened and he snapped his head up to meet Harry's eyes. His face paled considerably and Harry would’ve been concerned if he wasn’t busy mentally smacking himself up the head. “He told you-”

“Goddamnit, Styles,” Stan groaned, dragging his hands down his face. “We were twelve-”

Louis rounded over to Stan, livid. His carefully constructed mask fell apart. “You fucking told him?”

“It randomly came up!”

“How does it randomly come up? You don’t just tell people that, they’ll think I’m-”

Stan raised an eyebrow. “What, gay? Louis, you look like the twinkier version of Justin from _Queer As Folk_.”

“How am I the twinkier version of Justin? I’m clearly Brian.”

Stan looked up and down at Louis, a dubious look on his face. “You are clearly not Brian.”

Harry raised his hand, nervously clearing his throat. “I don’t understand this conversation.” His voice was small and he cringed at it. He sounded so young compared to the two of them.

Louis stifled a groan. “There is no conversation, Stan is leaving.” He stomped over to his best mate and tried to grab his arm, but Stan yanked it away. “It’s time for you to go.”

“I’m just trying to help, Lou,” Stan argued, his annoyance flaring back up. “I don’t know why you feel the need to push me away just ‘cause you can’t accept the fact that you were Elton John in your past life. I already told you thousands of times before that I’d support you no matter what.” His expression softened and Harry was reminded once again that he probably should’ve given them some semblance of privacy. “You shouldn’t be afraid of being yourself. I didn’t say anything when you pretended to date Hannah, or when you quit footie after some of the boys harassed Tyler. But I dunno how many times I can say I’m here for you before you start to believe me.”

It was really quiet. Louis had his eyes trained on Stan, but he didn’t say anything. His face went through several indescribable expressions. Harry would give anything to know what he was thinking. 

“Lou. . .?” Harry asked hesitantly. “You alright?”

That broke Louis out of whatever daze he was in and he narrowed his eyes in a sharp glare. “Could you, for once, mind your own business, Stan?”

Now they were back to square one.

Stan huffed, all pleasantness drained from his face. “God, you’re such a cunt. If you keep doing shit like this, you’ll end up alone.”

Something dark flickered in Louis’ eyes. “What exactly do you want me to say, ‘ _thanks for not being a shitty_ _friend?_ ’ I don’t have time to deal with this bullshit.”

Stan rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Denial isn’t just a river in Egypt, apparently. Not that you would know, you failed Geography. I’m done.”

“What do you mean, you’re done?”

Stan shook his head. He walked past Louis, their shoulders brushing as neither boy moved out of the way. “Have fun shagging Harry. Text me back when you’re done being a pussy.” He paused after opening the front door. “Not that you know what that’s like.”

The door closed with a loud slam and the room settled into uncomfortable silence. Louis dropped his head into his hands and let out a long groan of annoyance.

“I feel like I just witnessed a divorce,” Harry commented. 

Louis peered up at him, his expression pained. “I’m such a dick,” he muttered. “I’m an awful friend. I panicked and shit started coming out of my mouth and I couldn’t stop it.”

He seemed so upset that Harry momentarily forgot his talk with Stan. “Do you want to talk about what just happened?”

“I’d rather burn my hair off,” Louis replied, dropping his keys on the coffee table. He fidgeted with his hands for a tense moment. “Look, whatever Stan told you wasn’t true.”

“So you haven’t wanked to David Beckham before?”

“He told you that?” He gaped. “Does he not know how to keep a secret?”

“Louis-” _Why won’t you admit that you’re gay?_ Harry stopped himself before he could make things worse. It wasn’t fair to bombard him with questions after having a fight with his best mate. But then again, it wasn’t fair that Louis was stringing him along like this. But Harry was, in a way, allowing himself to be strung along. He could always say no. He could always stop whatever they had until Louis figured himself out. But what did Harry really want? “Maybe Stan’s right.”

“Stan has never been right about anything in his life,” Louis grumbled. He looked back at the front door once before heading to his room. Harry followed him because he was stupid and would travel the world for Louis, although he wondered if the blue-eyed heartbreaker would do the same for him. Louis didn’t seem surprised to see Harry slip inside, he only shut the door behind him with a soft click. His room was a slight mess, with papers crumbled on the ground and some clothes draped over his desk chair. His bed was unmade but Harry still crawled on to it, sheets cool against his skin. They smelled like a mix of Harry’s and Louis’ shampoo and he inhaled the scent greedily. Louis wasn’t paying attention to him, busy shrugging off his jacket and hanging it up in the closet. He grabbed his laptop from where it was charging on his desk and shuffled next to Harry on the bed. “Wanna watch something? I don’t want to think anymore and I’ve made it to season three of _Peppa Pig_.”

Something floral hit Harry’s nose and he frowned. “You smell like her,” he muttered.

Louis’ eyes flickered up to meet his. “What?”

Harry had to look away from his intense gaze, suddenly unsure of where his sudden surge of jealousy came from. “You smell like Eleanor. Her perfume.” 

“Oh, really?” Louis sniffed his shirt. “Didn’t realize it. I wondered why I smelled better than usual. Want me to change my shirt?”  
  
Harry felt stupid. This was all so stupid. What was the point of all of this when Louis just had a fight with Stan and was so deep in the closet he didn’t even realize he was trapped? Why didn’t Louis seem upset over potentially losing his best mate? And why did Harry care so much? 

“Maybe we should stop,” he blurted out, moving away from Louis so that he wasn’t dizzy anymore from Eleanor’s cloying scent mixing with theirs. “I mean, people are going to find out if you keep leaving pap walks with El.” 

Louis shrugged, unbothered. He took off his shirt and threw it on the ground, joining the clutter already forming. Harry averted his eyes from his lean muscles and tanned skin, skin he explored intimately before. “I’d rather be here with you than with El, if I’m being honest. If I get yelled at by management, then so be it.”

“But Stan-”

“I don’t want to talk about Stan,” he interrupted sharply. “Please. Not today.” 

Harry pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. “Maybe I should move out.”

Louis startled. “Where the fuck did _that_ come from? You want to move out?”

“No - I mean, it might be easier-” _For both of us to figure out what we want._ “-to stop rumors. People are saying stuff online, y'know, and I know how much you don’t like those rumors.” _Even though they’re absolutely true._

Louis shrugged. “People can believe what they want to believe. As long as I know what’s real, s’enough.”

_Do you, though?_

Harry watched as Louis typed something on his laptop, his nimble fingers flying across the keyboard. He focused on that instead of the feelings swirling inside him. “What’s real, then? Is this-” He gestured between them. “-real?”

Louis didn’t look up. “What do you think?” That didn’t answer his question.

“So it doesn’t bother you?” He persisted for some reason. “What people think? You don’t-” _Hate yourself for being gay?_

“Of course not.”

“Because you’re straight?” 

Louis quirked an eyebrow. “Obviously.”

Before Harry could say anything else, Louis pulled him closer so that he could wrap an arm around his shoulder. Harry melted into the touch, leaning his face into the crook of Louis’ neck so that he could inhale his scent. He couldn’t help himself. Louis’ bare skin was heated and Harry latched onto it pathetically, aware that he was acting clingy and annoying but Louis never seemed to mind. Louis shifted slightly so that he could lean over and press soft lips on to the top of Harry’s head. Harry squeezed his eyes shut.

“I don’t care what anyone says, I’m not letting you go.”

Louis was soon lost in the marvelous world of Peppa Pig while Harry was lost in his thoughts. Louis was an anchor and Harry clung to him as the turbulent thoughts in his head threatened to drown him. He didn’t want to be left alone either. And maybe that meant he was too clingy, but was that so wrong? He was just getting used to not sleeping alone, why would he want to ruin that?

Also, possessive Louis was hot.

Louis knocked his shoulders into Harry’s, startling him out of his thoughts. “What are you thinking about, Rockstar?” His voice was unbearably soft and it unfurled something in Harry’s tummy.

His mouth began moving before his brain caught up. “About how hot it would be if you handcuffed me to the bed and pulled my hair while you fu-”

“Harry, what the actual _fuck_?”

He blinked. “Did I say that out loud?” He couldn’t even find it in himself to be embarrassed, he had said weirder things before.

Louis pointed at the screen, where Peppa Pig was chatting with her mum and dad. “Not in front of Peppa!”

Harry sighed.

There were three things he knew now for certain; one, Louis was gay; two, Louis was in the closet, and Harry would have to wait until he came out to him voluntarily; and three, Louis loved Peppa Pig more than he loved Harry. 

What a mess his life was becoming.

²⁸

  
Harry loved being in One Direction, he truly did, but he didn’t love every part of it. He hated having to go on scheduled outings and get photographed with different people. Simon said it was to stir up publicity for the band, which led to more album sales, and although Simon was the professional in this aspect, Harry wasn’t sure their fans bought their music just because Harry happened to be seen standing next to so-and-so. He couldn’t complain too much, though, because Louis had it relatively worse. He had to fake-date a girl when he was gay, and he wasn’t even aware that he was being locked inside a closet. 

In that regard, he was better off. And it wasn’t like all his dates were awful. Sometimes they were really interesting, although he wasn’t sure he could ever develop feelings for them. But most of them at least knew how to hold a conversation. The aspiring Clavin Klein model Harry was currently having dinner did not know how to do that. 

His name was Tim or Tom or Peter or whatever, and he was admittedly very ethereal. He had very sharp cheekbones and bright blond hair that put Niall’s dyed monstrosity to shame, and clear blue eyes (Management had a type, apparently). But TimTomPeter wasn’t as beautiful as Louis, who was a star falling to Earth, breathless in his beauty and perfect in his imperfections. Like a drop of moonlight in the ocean. TimTomPeter’s beauty was more artificial, carefully picked and molded so that it was unnerving. Even his personality was too plastic. It was like he was playing a role in a movie, but Harry didn’t have the script. It was awkward, to say the least. 

They’re at a fancy restaurant Harry had never heard of, nestled in the back near the large windows so that someone could snap photographs of them while they ate. The decor was minimalist but pretty, and there were lights strung up on the walls. He watched them idly as he picked at his breadsticks, contemplating buying some for his flat. TimTomPeter was sipping red wine across from him, his tailored suit impeccable and without a wrinkle in sight. He looked like he was posing for a cover magazine and Harry felt out of his depth. Still, Harry tried not to judge too much. He cleared his throat and searched for a topic of conversation, but he couldn’t help but remember how Louis had spilled red wine all over Niall’s pristine white carpets when they tried to play Drunk Monopoly last week. It was a temporary distraction from Zayn attempting to wring Niall’s neck for not paying him when he landed on his property. Whose bright idea was it to let five chaotic, drunk boys play a round of Monopoly? 

Oh yeah, it was Louis’. 

“So, Harry,” TomTimPeter started, curling his lips in a coy smile. “How’s your meal?”

“S’fine,” he replied, shrugging a bit. He ordered a plate of spaghetti because he couldn’t pronounce anything else on the menu, and it wasn’t bad. He liked the complimentary breadsticks the most. Louis also really liked breadsticks. Maybe he should bring some back. “I guess I‘m still not used to eating food this expensive.”

“What’s the point of having money if you’re not going to indulge in the finer things in life. And that includes food.” 

Harry tried not to frown. He was only eighteen, and he was sure TimPeterTom wasn’t that much older than him. Surely, he was also thrusted into sudden money quickly the way Harry was, yet Harry felt weirdly cheap sitting across from him. He supposed indulging a little wouldn’t kill him . . . Although Louis didn’t really care how expensive something was as long as it tasted good.

Why was he only thinking about Louis during his pr date?

“I mean, you can’t go wrong with a nice taco now and again,” Harry chuckled, forcing his thoughts away. 

TomTimPeter frowned. “Aren’t tacos a bit. . .cheap?” 

Yeah, this wouldn’t work if he didn’t like tacos. Harry had very high standards.

 _Louis likes tacos_ , a pesky voice in his head said. 

_Harry, shut up._

Thankfully, PeterTimTom changed the subject. “Anyway, you seem to be really close with that bandmate of yours. Louis, right?”

Harry eyed him. What was he supposed to say? Technically yes, but also no, except kinda? Of course they were close, they were best friends who shared a flat together. But they also had a no-strings-attached casual relationship that he supposed also made them quite close, but it wasn’t like he could admit that. Also, why were they suddenly talking about Louis? “Why do you ask?”

“He’s fit as fuck,” he admitted. “I’d shag him.” 

Alright, maybe not everyone should be treated with kindness. 

“Fuck off,” Harry snarled, more anger in his voice than he expected. He hid his clenched fists in his lap and tried not to let his jealousy overtake him. “He has a girlfriend.”

“She doesn’t have to know,” he shrugged. “I don’t mind sharing.”

“You’re gross.”

“It’s cool, I’m not opposed to shagging you either. You’re not my type but you’ll do.”

So yeah. That wasn’t one of his best dates. 

When Harry got home after the paparazzi took photos of him and TomPeterTim to post in magazines in the morning, it was just past midnight. He felt unreasonably stressed, and maybe it was the fake dating and the constant 'manwhore' image being painted of him, or maybe it was his date’s sleazy comments about Louis, or maybe it was his own insecurity about whether Harry was really what Louis wanted, but if he didn’t find a place to put all of these feelings, he would explode. So he quietly kicked off his shoes, aware of Louis sleeping down the hall, and shrugged off the casual jacket he wore. He unbuttoned his dress shirt but left it on and walked straight into the kitchen.

The quiet buzz of the light as it flickered on soothed him almost immediately, and he began rummaging through the pantry and fridge. Flour, egg, milk, cheese. Wait, no cheese. Louis finished all the good cheese. He pulled down one of the ceramic containers they used for the salt and sugar. The black one had a label that said ‘salt’ but after sprinkling some on his finger and licking it, he deduced that it was really just sugar. Louis still hadn’t switched them back. Harry still couldn’t find all the spoons they bought that Louis hid, and Harry was tired of eating soup with a fork. Although maybe it was a good thing, because Louis had flung a lot of Niall’s spoons at Liam’s face during Drunk Monopoly. They definitely would not be playing that again. 

Once he gathered all his ingredients he figured he needed for impromptu midnight cupcakes, he began working. He preheated the oven first, making sure it was at 175 degrees celsius. He then cracked open the eggs carefully, measured the milk and melted butter, and set aside the vanilla extract, all while trying his best not to think. He wasn’t normally good at not thinking, but if he thought too hard about his current situation, he was going to explode. So he got lost in the process of making cupcakes, shifting the self-rising flour, salt, and sugar together. He hummed a Beatles song to try and fill up his mind, because his soulmate clearly wasn’t going to help him this time. He wasn’t sure what was currently going on with them, but they sucked. Harry had been meticulously and loyally writing every single song they played the way he had always done, but they barely listened to anything anymore. And unless they were a huge fan of One Direction, Harry had nothing but their album on repeat in his head. Not that he could blame them if they were, One Direction was an amazing boyband. The most impressive thing they’ve listened to so far was Britney Spears’ “Toxic”, which was kind of funny because Louis did an impressive drunk rendition of that same song during Drunk Monopoly. What a coincidence. 

_What if Louis is your soulmate?_ The traitorous voice in his head asked. 

But if he was, wouldn’t they’ve found out by now? Weren’t they supposed to know from the first time their eyes met?

Harry started whisking the cupcake batter harder. 

He became so lost in his own world that he didn’t notice Louis’ presence until he sleepily called out, “Harry, what the hell are you doing?”

He startled, splattering some cupcake batter on his shirt as he whirled around. Louis was leaning against the wall, his eyes droopy and face soft. He was wearing a simple faded tee and bright red pyjama pants. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

Louis shrugged. “Nah, had a song stuck in my head and it woke me up. What are you doing, it’s almost one in the morning?”

He looked down at himself. “Well, you know how I used to work in a bakery-”

“Harry, shut the fuck up. You were the cashier.”

Harry pouted at him. “Rude. That’s it, you’re not getting my cupcakes.”

Louis faux-gasped and stepped closer to him, gripping Harry’s hips with his hands. Their chests were inches apart and Harry’s thoughts stuttered to a halt. His body was on fire, and it was only from a simple touch. “Oh no, not your wonderful cupcakes. Forgive me?”

Harry couldn’t hide his smile, even as his heartbeat quickened. “ ‘Course, always.” 

Louis swayed them a bit, as if they were about to waltz. He pecked Harry’s nose before pulling away. “You never answered my question, love. Why’re you still up? We have to travel to Sydney soon for the next leg of the tour and we still haven’t packed.” 

Harry dropped his gaze. “Sorry, just wanted to stop thinking for a bit. Needed to distract myself.”

“What’s making you think so much?” Louis bumped his hips into Harry’s playfully. 

Harry hesitated a bit. It was hard to put into words how unsettled he was over realizing that there were people out there that wanted Louis for themselves, and he had to remind himself that this wasn’t a competition. He didn’t deserve Louis anymore than PeterTomTim did, Louis wasn’t an object. The only person that truly deserved Louis was his soulmate. But - 

But Harry really wanted it to be him. 

Louis must’ve sensed his turbulent thoughts because he placed a comforting hand on Harry’s shoulder. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

Harry let his eyes linger on the soft smile on Louis’ lips. “Thanks.”

“But it must be lonely making all these cupcakes yourselves,” he sighed, swiftly changing the subject. “You’ll need the masterful hands of an experienced cupcake connoisseur to help you. Thankfully, I am willing to spare some of my valuable time.”

Harry threw him a look. “You once burnt the omelete you tried to make for me for brunch. We had to repaint the wall.”

“In my defense, I didn’t know you weren’t supposed to use water to put out an oil fire.” 

“It’s a good thing I bought that fire extinguisher, or else we would’ve had to call the fire department again.”

“It was one time,” Louis rolled his eyes. Harry looked at him. “Okay, twice, but still.” 

Harry just laughed. 

“Please let me help,” Louis pleaded, sticking out his lower lip and looking up at Harry through his dark eyelashes. He looked so sleep-ruffled and soft that it was impossible to say no to him. “Please, Hazza baby. I promise I’ll be a good boy!”

Harry nodded to himself. Yep, begging. Time to cross that off the kink bingo list. “Okay, you can whisk the batter while I get the cupcake pan ready.”

Louis nodded and looked serious as he took the bowl from Harry. Harry turned away to check on the oven and started working on making the icing. After a few seconds, Louis asked, “How do you whisk?”

It was around two thirty in the morning when the cupcakes were finished, and it was a wonder how they hadn’t burnt to a crisp. Louis was helpless in the kitchen, so he would catch Harry off guard by stealing a few kisses as they worked around each other. He had made a mess of the icing earlier and wiped some on Harry’s nose with a cackle. He also licked it off later and Harry couldn’t help but preen at the domesticity, because in these moments Harry had this. He had this Louis and TimPeterTomWhateverTheFuckHisNameWas didn’t. Even if it was only when they were alone, Louis was Harry’s. 

They left the cupcakes on the counter to cool and ended up on the couch, their lips firmly attached. Louis’ lips were smooth and soft and tasted like frosting, and the saccharine taste made his head spin. With both hands placed firmly on Louis’ shoulders, he swung his leg over to Louis’ other side and straddled him. Louis laughed into the kiss and ran his fingers through Harry’s curls. 

Harry’s favorite thing in the world was kissing Louis. It didn’t matter how many times they did it, he would never get tired of the way their lips molded together. It was intoxicating. Harry bit down on Louis’ lower lip and tugged playfully. A low groan reverberated in Louis’ chest, and Harry’s toes curled in pleasure. He pressed closer. 

“Taste so good,” Louis mumbled as they broke apart for air. His eyes were still firmly shut, red pooling in his cheeks and hair matted against his forehead. He was breathtaking to look at. “You always taste so good.” 

Harry flushed at the words and tucked his face into Louis’ neck. He sucked on the skin there and squeezed his eyes shut when Louis let out an appreciative moan. He loved making Louis feel good. 

Louis gripped Harry’s hair tightly and pulled his head back up, his eyes darkening before slamming their lips back together. Their tongues slid against each other and Harry drowned under the feeling. He really felt bad for everyone that never had the chance to kiss Louis Tomlinson, they were missing out on an amazing experience. 

Heat coiled in Harry’s gut as he grinded down on Louis’ lap. “Louis-” He gasped into the kiss. 

“Yes, Princess?” He lowered his hands from Harry’s hair to instead grip his bum, squeezing roughly and eliciting another moan from Harry. 

“We-” He tugged at Louis’ hair desperately. “The cupcakes-”

Louis pulled away. He panted hard as he stared at Harry, eyebrows slightly turned up. “What?”

Although they were separated, Harry was still dizzy with want. He swallowed. “We forgot the cupcakes.”

“I just gave you the snog of a lifetime and your first thought was the cupcakes,” Louis said slowly. 

“I worked really hard on them-”

Louis laughed and gently pushed Harry off, swatting his bum when he got the chance. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Ten minutes later, they were cuddled up on the same spot on the couch, but the sexual tension between them disappeared. But there was still a sense of intimacy between them as they ate the cupcakes together. The first season of _Inbetweeners_ was on and the light from the telly flickered softly over Louis’ good side. The hickey Harry had given him was almost invisible with the lights off, but Harry knew it was there. He pressed closer to Louis, inhaling the smell of their shampoo and the cupcakes. Louis’ arm was thrown around Harry, his fingers idly rubbing against his collarbones. His thoughts were, miraculously, empty.

Louis started giggling. “He kinda looks like Niall.”

Harry snapped out of his daze and turned his attention back to the telly. He had no idea what was going on right now. “Who?”

“Jay,” Louis snickered at the screen. The character was currently lamenting about something or other and Harry knew he should be following the show, but Louis was much more interesting. “Like, when he turns to the side-”

“You can’t just say every blond guy looks like Niall,” Harry laughed, although he could kind of see the resemblance. Like, if you squinted. 

“I’m not saying every blond guy looks like Niall,” he argued, although he had said that phrase before. “But you have to admit the resemblance is uncanny. He kinda looks like Ellen Degeneres too, doesn’t he?”

Harry laughed right as his phone buzzed from between the couch cushions. He pulled it out and checked the screen before laughing again. 

“What is it?” Louis asked, peering over to look.

Harry showed him the text Niall just sent. 

**From Niall:** _stop tlking shit about me u cunts_

Louis let out a symphony of laughter and Harry just. . .melted. He watched his eyes crinkle and his messy fringe fall into his eyes and Harry -

Harry was precariously falling in what he didn’t want to admit was love. 

But there was one thing he wasn’t afraid to admit: He wanted Louis. He wanted Louis as more than a friend, as more than a convenient mouth to kiss. He wanted to go on dates together and hold hands in public and Harry wanted Louis to be his boyfriend.

He tried to blink the thought away but it was stained on him like a tattoo. Shit, he was in trouble.

²⁸

  
They continued touring and writing their second album and Harry still wanted Louis to kiss him in front of everyone as his boyfriend. Which was - no. Because Louis was “straight” and, according to the public, with Eleanor. The media adored her. She was pretty and docile and smiled so sweetly, Harry’s teeth turned rotten. She was a simple uni student who somehow managed to snag a member of a famous boy band, it was no wonder everyone went crazy. Imagine being Eleanor, being so ordinary and yet dating someone so extraordinary. Website articles published stories upon stories of how compatible they looked at public events, how in love they were, how they were probably soulmates although neither had confirmed or denied the rumors. 

Harry hated it. He hated it more than anything in the world, especially with his feelings for Louis slowly growing. He hated all of it, so he tried focusing on the good parts. 

It helped, somewhat. 

They met a lot of cool songwriters for their second album and even helped with some of them, although Harry wasn’t sure how to help write love songs when his own love life was so woeful. But they did work with Ed Sheeran again, who Harry was very fond of. He wasn’t that much older than Louis and had also released his first album recently, and yet he was so down-to-earth. The sudden fame didn’t seem to bother him, and Harry was sure he could’ve met him at Tesco and not know who he was. It was fascinating how much he didn’t care about the industry, focusing slowly on writing songs he loved, and Harry envied that. Maybe that was part of the reason why he agreed when Ed invited him over for a drink. He wanted to know how he did it. 

Harry was the only one knocking on Ed’s door that night. Liam had another date with a girl named Danielle, Zayn was busy crying into a bowl of ice cream, and Louis had to go to some charity event with Eleanor. God only knew where Niall was, but hopefully he was safe. When Ed opened the door and greeted him with a large hug, Harry relaxed into the touch. They were going to be good friends, he decided. 

The thing about Harry was when he became good friends with a person, he tended to overshare a lot. Maybe too much. Gemma said his brain-to-mouth filter was malfunctioned, and he couldn’t even deny it. And when he got drunk in the middle of Ed Sheeran’s flat, a nearly empty bottle of Irish whiskey clutched in his sweaty palms, he overshared more than he probably should have. 

Ed was tipsy as he played with his guitar and watched Harry make a fool of himself, his red curls matted to his forehead from the heat. He didn’t seem to mind too much, nor did he judge as Harry continued his thirty minute rant of why Louis Tomlinson should be put in a museum for safe-keeping. Yeah, they were going to be good friends.

“And his eyes are just, like, the nicest shade of blue ever,” Harry continued to gush, his words slurring. “Everytime I look at his eyes, they make me want to cry. Out of happiness. So pretty and blue, oh my God.” And maybe he was a bit teary as well. He wasn’t lying when he said Louis’ beauty made him want to sob. 

“Sounds like you have it bad,” Ed chuckled, plucking at the strings. Harry didn’t recognize the melody, but it sounded nice. Soft and mellow, like a love song. 

“I do,” Harry moaned, dramatic. He flung his hands out and almost tripped over his limbs. “I just want ‘im to kiss me all the time. Like in that one Ed Sheeran song. D’you know it?”

Ed snorted. “Yeah, I wrote it.”

Harry sniffed and plopped down on Ed’s lumpy couch. He pulled his legs up and tucked his toes underneath Ed’s legs. He should slow down on the drinking but where was the fun in that? “I like Ed Sheeran. He writes such nice songs. I want to write nice songs too, but then everyone'll know they're about Louis.”

Ed took another sip of his beer. “Then sell it to someone else. Then they’ll sing songs about Louis.”

Harry frowned. He didn’t know he could do that. “I don’t want other people to sing songs about Louis. He’s mine.” 

Ed just laughed although Harry didn’t know what was funny. He grumpily took another swig of whiskey, wincing as it burned down his throat. 

“S’not funny, Louis’ special to me,” he sniffed. “I want us to be more than friends but he doesn’t like that. But friend’s, like, don’t shag each other or snog or whatever, do they? Friends don’t sleep in the same bed.”

Ed shrugged. “Not really. Hey, you could write a song about that.”

“I’d rather write a song about Louis’ eyes,” Harry admitted. He quieted, his thoughts sloshing around in a pool of intoxication. The only thing that kept him afloat was the thought of Louis being here with him. “They’re so blue, his eyes. And he has freckles on his cheeks, didja know that? Like, there’s small freckles everywhere but on his cheek, there’s some as well. Like, in the shape of a triangle. My friend Nick said that it was, like, really gay. ‘Cause triangles are gay. Why are triangles gay?”

“You’re asking the wrong guy,” Ed shook his head, laughing again. He continued strumming his guitar and Harry let his eyes close. 

“And I love it when he smiles,” Harry admitted softly. “It’s so pretty. And he gets these crinkles by his eyes and I want to build a home in them. It’s all these little things that I - shit. He’s so perfect, it’s annoying. Like an angel. A five foot two angel with a nice bum.”

And more embarrassing things like that. 

Harry woke up the next morning missing a sock and hungover as shit, to Louis’ amusement. He almost forgot everything that had happened that night until they had a songwriting session with Ed Sheeran. Ed pulled out his guitar and shot Harry a wicked smile. Harry knew he was going to be in trouble. He tried to keep his face impassive as Ed started strumming the same melody he played the night before. His stomach turned only slightly when Ed began explaining his concept for his new song; a love song about the little things you adored in your partner. Harry only wanted to die a little when Ed brought up the crinkles by their eyes and the freckles on their cheek. He was so unbothered he stood up and went to the bathroom to freak out. He needed a time-out. 

So, all in all, things were good. Great, in fact. Harry couldn’t complain too much about his life, and there were enough fun parts to make the bad seem manageable. Harry was, decidedly, happy. Really, really happy.

Until Simon Cowell had to ruin that. 

In July of 2013, Harry sat down at a conference table all by himself. Simon Cowell was talking to another man in a suit in the corner while Janice, their lawyer, was busy shuffling through a few papers. The table was big and he felt small in the presence of so many professional people. His stomach had been in knots ever since he received the message that he had to see Simon alone, sure that he was getting kicked out of the band or something worse. He wished the other boys were here with him, but he was explicitly told not to bring them. He needed Liam’s paternal comforts, or Zayn’s relaxed aura, or even Niall’s penchant of making even the most serious things in the world funny. More than that, he needed Louis. Without Louis, his brain was free to run wild with worst-case scenarios. Maybe he was about to be a human sacrifice for the band to get more successful. _Take Me Home_ was a hit album and their tour did really well, but maybe it wasn’t enough. Oh God, Harry was too young to be a human sacrifice. 

Simon came over to him, his face not betraying the real reason why Harry was here. He patted his shoulder awkwardly and Harry tensed. “Relax, kid, you look scared.”

“I don’t want to be a virgin sacrifice,” Harry admitted in a small voice. He looked down at his hands. “I’m not even a virgin anymore, you should use Niall.”

Simon gave him a strange look, but he was quite used to Harry’s train of thought. He simply brushed it off. “No one is getting sacrificed. This is a boy band, not a cult. But we are here to discuss an important business venture.”

“Then shouldn’t the other boys be here?” He asked. “If it’s about the band, I don’t think I should be responsible for it.”

SImon shook his head and moved his hand away. “This isn’t about the other boys, it's about you. How well you do will affect the band, however. But we’ve been given a proposition that you simply cannot refuse.”

Harry didn’t like the sound of that. He really, really didn’t like the sound of that. 

Before he could protest, the door to the conference room opened with a loud bang. A breathless and feminine voice called out, “Sorry I’m late, traffic was a nightmare.” 

Harry snapped his head up at the familiar voice and froze.

Simon clasped his shoulder again, almost in warning. “No worries, Ms. Swift, you’re right on time.”

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on my socials if you want:
> 
> twitter: amourxlwt  
> tiktok: sunflwrmemories 
> 
> it's also on wattpad under the same name.


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